The Garden of Reverie
by MandaPanda2
Summary: An alternate universe story about how Gregory and Olivia met.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: All characters (unless otherwise specified) belong to Aaron Spelling, E. Duke Vincent, Gary Tomlin, NBC, et al and are used here strictly for non-profit entertainment purposes.  
Rating: PG 14  
Genre: Romance/Drama  
Spoilers: Not a one, other than the history of Sunset Beach which everyone pretty much knows.  
Summary: An AU story about how Gregory and Olivia met. (Some character depictions are different from what we saw on the show.) Please remember it's AU and what unfolded on the show will NOT be reflected in this story.  
Note: "Take Five" (performed by the Dave Brubeck Quartet, composed by Paul Desmond) can be found on the cd "Time Out" and appears here strictly for non profit entertainment purposes

* * *

Chapter 1: Prologue

January 1996

Ropes of white lights hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a delicate tent of light over the ballroom. The crystal goblets glittered and the silverware shined as they caught the lights. The soft clink of the silverware on the china plates mixed with the swanky tune, "Take Five," that completed the atmosphere.

Gregory Richards excused himself from the business discussion he found himself sucked into. He smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of his jet-black tuxedo coat and scanned the room. By all accounts, the anniversary party was a success. At the center of the room stood a pyramid of champagne glasses and a river of the liquid perfume toppled down gently over the rims.

The chandeliers were dimmed enough that those in the ballroom were able to see that it had started to snow again. The French doors leading to the illuminated stone patio and gardens were closed but the fat white snowflakes were evident. They fell silently, blanketing the outdoor world while the world inside the ballroom was warm with body heat and conversation.

His eyes fell on the dance floor and he saw her dancing in the arms of another man. He stole a glass of champagne from a passing server and swallowed it, never taking his eyes off the dark haired woman on the dance floor. The way another man's hand fit in the small of her back. The way another man's mouth lay even with her ear, allowing him to whisper in it. She smacked his arm playfully even as she tossed her head back and laughed. Her laugh floated over the other levels of conversation where it confronted him.

Watching her now, reminded him that she was pure flesh and blood. A passionate spirit that he would never fully capture. She was too independent for that.

His eyes moved down her back all the way to her the train of her evening gown and back up again. Leaving his glass on a nearby table, he made his way to the dance floor.

He made his way to _her_.

As he neared her, her voice became clearer and more apparent. He didn't hear the words, per se. He heard her. Her voice was unmistakable. Delicate and breathy, but full of her teasing and playful nature.

He came up from behind her and touched her shoulder.

She turned from her partner and met his eyes.

He watched as something flickered in her eyes before she backed out of her partner's embrace. She turned fully to him and smirked.

"If you'll excuse us," he explained quietly to her dance partner, not that he felt any explanation was required. He took her hand and led her deeper into the throng of people.

The strong drumbeat reverberated through the ballroom, synchronizing with the beat of his heart as he took her in his arms. Threading his fingers with hers, he let his other hand wrap around her back. It rested between her shoulder blades for a moment before sliding down dangerously low. She pressed her body closer to his and allowed her hand to snake up under his tuxedo jacket before she allowed her finger to hook around the belt loop of his pants.

He trailed his hand up her silk clad back and watched as her eyes sparkled more than the large diamond ring he placed on her hand years ago.

"How did you feel seeing me dance with another man?" she asked, pulling him out of his study of her.

He tightened his fingers around hers and leaned down to her ear. He felt her shiver as his breath tickled her ear. "Lucky."

She raised her head, her right eyebrow arched in surprise. "Lucky?"

The sound of the saxophone was a seductive promise as he nodded. Lowering his head again, he explained, "He may have danced with you…But I get to take you home at the end of the night."

Her eyes dazzled with the knowing grin she flashed him. He let his hand fall down to the small of her back. The percussion picked up and he caressed her back through the silk gown. He smiled when he felt the gentle pressure of her head on his shoulder.

For he was the one that married her.

And _that _is what made him lucky.


	2. A New Day

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 2: "A New Day"

March 1976

The sun rose lazily from the east. Its pale golden rays peaked gently over the tops of buildings and homes. The streets were quiet in the early morning as the sun moved slowly higher.

The call of the seagull pierced the stillness as the sunlight washed over him and the railing of the pier that he perched himself on. The surf lapped gently onto the white sand of the beach. The air was not heavy, suggesting that a balmy temperature would envelope the small seaside community today.

As the sun became brighter, the town began to stir. The amount of cars increased on the paved blacktop. Along the cobble stoned main street, shop keepers opened their blinds and let out their doors. A bus boy opened the umbrellas that covered the sidewalk tables and wrought iron chairs.

Further up the beach, the stretch of homes began to stir from within. Windows and patio doors opened, allowing the sounds of morning to linger in the air.

The largest house on the beach, _Reve de la Mer_, sat on a plot of land surrounded by gardens on either side. The beachside boasted various levels of stone patio and a large in ground swimming pool that sparkled like sapphires in the strengthening sun. The palatial home stuck out like a sore thumb in the midst of the airy California homes made of wood and glass.

_Reve de la Mer _is ornate and heavily influenced by western European architecture. A large stained glass window depicting a foaming wave crashing against jagged boulders is cemented above the front doorway. When the morning sunlight is just right, shafts of multicolored light stain the Spanish tile of the foyer.

Down the winding staircase came a sleepy woman. Her left hand trailed down the banister, the other hand covered her mouth to hide her yawn. The platform sandals clicked across the tile as she walked through the sitting room to the patio. Walking down the stone steps, she moved across the lower patio. She kicked off her shoes and tested the water of the pool with her foot. She pulled off the white crocheted poncho and tossed it on the stone next to her lounge. She flopped down on the cushioned lounge and closed her eyes, adjusting the strings on her bikini. The sun beat down on her and she sighed tiredly.

From the upper patio, she heard the sounds of the maids laying out the morning buffet and breakfast plates. Next, the irritating squeak of the cart echoed across the patio as the food was rolled out and laid on the sidebar. The noises floated over her as her mind drifted aimlessly.

The maid walked over to the railing and called down to the still form stretched out on the chair, "Mrs. Deschanel…Breakfast is served."

Olivia sighed and sat up. "Thank you, Therese," she called back. "I'll be up in a moment." She sat up and draped the poncho back over her tanned body. The fringe swung and bounced as she stepped back into her sandals. As she walked back up the stairs, she let her hair down and shook it out for a moment before putting it back up into a careless twist.

Her sandals stopped making noise as she sat down in the chair and nodded at Therese. The maid stepped forward and poured steaming black coffee into the delicate porcelain cup. Olivia watched as the level of coffee in the cup rose and eventually covered the hand painted rose on the inside rim. "Thank you. That's enough." She looked at the coffee and changed her mind, pushing it away and leaning back against the chair.

Voices filtered out from inside the house and a moment later, Armando Deschanel, Sr. walked onto the patio. Olivia sat up and smiled at her father-in-law as he kissed both of her cheeks lightly.

"Good morning, ma chere," he said softly in French accented English. "Did you rest well?" Armando sat down heavily in the chair and looked attentively at his son's young wife.

"With the waves lulling me to sleep, it's hard not to sleep well." Olivia watched as Armando leaned forward and gestured at Therese to fill his cup. The maid stepped forward unsurely before hesitating, the silver pot frozen above his cup. Olivia cleared her throat to spare the woman any further anxiety. "You know you aren't supposed to drink coffee," she chided. "The doctor said-"

"The doctor said this, the doctor said that. To hell with it. I drink my café au lait _every_ morning." He waved his hand at the cup. "Pour Therese." The maid bit her lip but poured the dark liquid into his cup.

Olivia rolled her eyes at Armando's stubbornness but slid the small pitcher of ice-cold milk to him. He smiled victoriously at her and allowed a splash of the white milk to hit the coffee, turning it into a shade of creamy brown. He brought the cup to his lips and sipped out of it as Therese laid a plate of toast, fruit, and cottage cheese in front of him. He put the cup down angrily and asked, "What the hell is this? Where is my breakfast?"

"Mrs. Deschanel gave me a new menu to follow where your meals are concerned," Therese said as her cheeks burned. She watched as Armando pushed the plate away from him and glared at her.

"What the hell is wrong with her? Julianna is now taking orders from these doctors. This is _not_ what I pay them for."

"No, you pay them to keep you alive." Olivia dismissed Therese and leaned in closer to Armando. "You can't keep eating such rich food forever. It isn't good for you."

The older man cursed in his native French and drummed his fingers angrily on the tabletop. "They coddle me like I'm a feeble old man!" He smacked his hand against his chest. "Do I look old to you?" He stood up, pointed wildly at the beach, and then back at the house. "Everything! Everything! I built it all from nothing!"

Olivia swallowed an amused smile as she followed Armando's movements with her eyes. She nodded in feigned seriousness when he turned back to her and sat back in his chair. Armando glared down at the offending plate and pulled it back to him. He started to shred the toast with his hands. After a moment, he picked up his knife and stabbed the jelly dish with it. He smeared the apricot preserve on the now smaller pieces of toast and sighed deeply before putting it in his mouth.

"There now…That's not so bad, is it?" Olivia asked pleasantly. She laughed at Armando's grimace and rubbed his shoulder.

"When you and my son are at my age," he said after swallowing, "may you both be able to eat whatever you want. And may your children not side with your doctors over you." He spooned some of the cottage cheese dejectedly over the fruit and stabbed a strawberry slice. Looking down at the red and white on his fork, he added, "And may you never eat fruit and cottage cheese. Mon dieu."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust before spooning some cottage cheese and a grape into her mouth. She frowned and struggled to swallow the food as Armando tossed his head back and laughed loudly.

Olivia smiled shakily and swallowed a large gulp of her coffee. "Ugh, that was _disgusting_!"

Armando pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. "Oh, ma chere fille…Don't ever change."

"Who shouldn't change?" AJ Deschanel asked as he walked out onto the patio. "Olivia?" He sat down next to his wife and squeezed her knee playfully.

"You stay just the way you are, Olivia," Armando ordered.

She smiled and lowered her head as AJ kissed her cheek.

"You know," the senior Deschanel continued, "if I was fifteen years younger, I'd-"

"Give me a run for Olivia's affections," AJ finished for his father. "Yes, Father…We all know how you feel about beautiful women, including _my_ wife."

"Making a play for our daughter-in-law again, Armando?" a clipped voice asked. Julianna Deschanel sat down across from Olivia and crossed her legs tightly in front of her. "Should I feel threatened by you, _ma chere_?"

Armando waved his hand dismissively and picked up the morning paper that Julianna placed on the table when she sat down. Silence fell across the patio as Therese returned to serve AJ and Julianna their breakfast.

Olivia reached for her coffee cup, her eyes meeting Julianna's as she did. The older woman's eyes moved over her daughter-in-law's bikini and poncho clad body, her eyes screaming disapproval. Olivia stared back at her until Julianna glanced away.


	3. A Juxtaposition of Life

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 3: "A Juxtaposition of Life"

Snow in Manhattan rarely has a chance.

The white flakes fell lazily from the bleak sky and down to the grimy sidewalk. Their lifespan was cut short by the immense heat radiating up from the subway. Those that landed in the street had a better chance at survival. City sanitation workers salted the streets earlier in the day so that the flow of traffic was not disrupted. As the thousands of New York City taxi's sped up and down the streets, the heat and exhaust emanating from them turned the heaven sent powder into gray slush.

The naked trees in Central Park sang when a strong breeze caused the icicles on the branches to clink together. Their spider arms hung forlornly without the leaves cloaking them.

On the eighteenth floor of an apartment building overlooking Central Park South, Gregory Richards stood at the window. He watched disinterestedly as the snow funneled up in a twister outside as it met the wind coming up from below. The snow did nothing for him but cause traffic delays. The view that he paid an enormous sum for died during the winter months until mid-April, when the park bloomed green again.

He turned around and sank into the leather armchair, resting his feet on the ottoman. Tapping the cigar into the ashtray, he brought it to his mouth and inhaled deeply before a snakelike trail escaped his mouth. The smoke hung in the air before it faded into oblivion.

A sharp knock at the door caused Gregory to stab the cigar out before he rose out of the chair. Pulling open the wooden door, he frowned when he came face to face with the red head on the other side. "Christina," he sighed.

Christina Whitmore glared at Gregory and attempted to push her way past him, in a rush of long hair and sickeningly sweet perfume. He blocked the doorway with his body and she put her hands on her hips. "You haven't returned any of the messages I've left for you," she whined.

Gregory's eyebrows scrunched together as he bit his frustration down and folded his arms across his chest. "I thought it was clear from our last conversation where things stood. Clearly, there's been some confusion."

She leaned in closer to Gregory, allowing him an ample view of her cleavage. "Precisely…and I'm not the confused one."

"Oh?" he smirked. "From where I'm standing, you're the only one who could be." He watched as her spine stiffened and she narrowed her eyes. "What part of 'we're though' do you not understand?"

"I thought we had something," she oozed seductively as she leaned against the door. She reached out to touch Gregory's cheek, but he moved away from her. "What is the matter with you?" she cried. "Things were going so well!"

Laughter bubbled up out of Gregory's mouth before he could stop himself. He stared at the ground while his shoulders shook in unbridled amusement. " 'Well'? You call a few sexual encounters-" he trailed off as his laughter overtook him again.

Christina's green eyes flashed in anger as she smacked Gregory in the chest. "Bastard," she hissed. She raised her hand to smack his face but he anticipated her action, catching her hand before she swung it down. She flinched and cried out as he tightened his grip around her fingers.

"Temper, temper," Gregory said as he clucked his tongue. He forcefully released her hand and she pulled it back to her person. "I'll make it easy for you. The sex was lousy and you're irritating. Hence, we're through." He backed into his apartment and closed the door in her face, silencing her protest. As he locked the door, he heard her slam her hand against it.

Walking back to the sitting room, he picked up his cigar and then the telephone. "Hello George?" he said after a moment. "This is Gregory Richards in 1805. The redhead that you just let up to my apartment, Christina Whitmore? I imagine she'll be storming through the lobby in a matter of moments. Add her to the list of those that are barred from the building...Thank you." He hung up the phone and continued to puff on the cigar he began before the brief unpleasantness landed on his doorstep.

The amount of snow that fell from the sky increased in the time he'd been away from the window. The world of gray skies and buildings slowly turned white as the snow fell heavier and stuck to the ground, including the heated sidewalks. "Damn," he sighed.

* * *

Three thousand miles west, the cold snow of New York was the farthest thing on Olivia Deschanel's mind. For her, snow equaled the happiness of her childhood in England. Her father pulling her behind him on a wooden sled and making snow angels on the ground. The way he'd turn and smile over his shoulder, the cold turning his nose and cheeks a rosy red. 

But there was no snow in Sunset Beach…and none of the happiness that came with it.

Olivia sipped her pina colada through the straw and stared out at the ocean. The waves crashed repeatedly onto the beach, lulling her thoughts along. Moreover, her primary thought was of her unhappiness.

She frowned as she thought of the mess her life became and she glanced down at her feet. Sighing, she swung them over the stone railing and sat on it, swinging her legs absentmindedly. She plucked the straw out of the glass and dropped it on the ground before swallowing the frozen beverage straight out of the glass. She wiped a lump of shaved ice off her lip and sucked it off her finger.

Placing the empty glass on the railing next to her, she hung her head for a moment and then looked up. The puffy white clouds and warm blue sky seemed to emphasize the lack of happiness in her life and the travesty it had become.

Olivia reached down and played with the rings on her left hand. As she did, her finger grazed the diamond-encrusted wedding band that AJ placed on her fifteen months ago.

"If there be any present," the archbishop asked, "who know why these two souls should not be joined in holy matrimony, please speak now or forever hold your peace."

"Me," she whispered. Sighing heavily at how too late her statement was, Olivia looked back out at the ocean. Even the quiet beach looked to be less boring than the life she was living. Folding her legs beneath her body, she leaned her chin into her hands and sighed again.

"Toots, I got to tell you," a voice behind her called out, "that the point of running around the house in a teeny, tiny string bikini is that you entice your husband to stick around." Olivia turned around as Bette Douglas strode across the patio and climbed up on the railing next to her. "Yet it seems like every time I'm here, he's gone." Bette picked up the empty glass and turned it upside down. Frowning she said, "And I see you started the party without me."

Olivia smiled guiltily. "Therese can bring out more. I had her make a pitcher. How are you darling?" she asked as she leaned over and hugged her friend close.

"Same old, same old. You?"

"The same," Olivia sighed. She shifted right to face Bette. "What happened to what's-his-name?"

Bette snorted, causing Olivia to smile. "He expected _me_ to cook and clean for him. I told him that sleeping with him was punishment enough. I clearly had my hands full in the bedroom, never mind what was going on the kitchen." She watched Olivia shake her head disbelievingly.

"You are _too_ much. Too much," Olivia repeated softly. She looked back up at Bette and conceded, "That's why I love you though." She latched onto Bette's hand and squeezed it.

"Love to love you too." Bette smiled as her eyes moved over her friend appraisingly. The way her smile seemed a bit forced and her blue eyes hinted at some sadness she wasn't willing to speak of. "So, everything's 'the same' with you?"

Olivia scoffed. "Eternally." She met Bette's questioning eyes and explained, "It's like I'm living the same day over and over again. It _never_ changes." She turned away and looked back at the untamed spirit of the ocean. "There's-, There's no variety."

"Variety?" Bette asked in a low tone and one eyebrow raised in question. "Are we referring to the…_sexual_ aspect of your marriage?"

"Yes. No. Ugh…_All _of it! It's all-…I hate my life." Olivia looked back at Bette and repeated, "I _hate_ my life."

Bette sighed and patted Olivia's hand. "All marriages have problems. You know how bad mine was." She watched Olivia out of the corner of her eye and continued, "It certainly would make things easier if AJ was here half the time."

"Sometimes," Olivia said after a moment, "I _like_ that he's not here." She continued to stare out at the ocean and felt Bette grip her hand tighter. "If he's not here, I don't have to pretend."

"Pretend what, Livy?"

She tore her blue eyes away from the ocean and looked at Bette. "Pretend that I love him."


	4. The Shark from New York

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 4: "The Shark from New York"

Maxwell Richards, Sr. sat behind his massive cherry wood desk. A small onyx clock kept the time as the pendulum moved slowly from side to side. He rolled his eyes discreetly as his eldest son, Max, droned on about _Richards Enterprises _latest acquisition.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"Fine, fine," he interrupted with a wave of his hand.

Max immediately stopped talking and closed the leather folder that he was reciting monetary figures from. Maxwell glanced at his two other sons. William, the middle son, lounged comfortably on the dark brown leather sofa. His legs stretched out in front of him and a cigarette dangled from his fingers. Gregory stood against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. A bored expression completed his casual stance.

"Good work, Max," the older man said. "Gregory. Go."

Gregory cleared his throat and stood at attention. "What I've been working on is a project that would essentially secure our future on the West Coast. In the past, we've had trouble breaking into the close-knit community of businesses there. We've long searched for a company to partner with. And I think we've struck pay dirt. AJ Deschanel," he said as Max groaned, "has been assuming more power at _Deschanel Shipping _since his father announced he was retiring several months ago. He's looking to expand."

"I still can't believe that Armando is retiring." Maxwell looked at Gregory. "What the hell does he plan on doing with his time?"

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

"My sources tell me that his health has been failing. His doctors want him to take it easy." Gregory walked closer to his father, stopping a foot away from the desk. "I've been in discussion with AJ and we've nailed out a tentative arrangement. We partner with _Deschanel Shipping_. We invest in some deals with them, providing them the capital to do so. In return, they get to expand and we get an 'in' with the California companies. As well as make a tidy profit for very little work."

Maxwell smacked his hand down on the leather blotter. "Excellent. When's the deal being finalized?"

"I'm flying out to California in a few days. Meet with the Deschanel's and make sure everyone's satisfied. I hope to be out there no more than two days and I'm leaving as soon as the ink dries."

"You should take a few days and enjoy yourself," William piped up. "The weather's great this time of year. Good for golfing."

"The chicks are great in California too," Max added with a leer.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Gregory frowned. "Not going to happen. I don't want to be out there any longer than I have to. It's bad enough that we're doing business with AJ. I don't want to see him more than necessary." He glanced down at his gold watch. "If that's all, I'm going to call AJ and let him know I'll be out there the beginning of next week." Maxwell nodded and Gregory turned to leave as Max started to recite more figures.

"Call AJ Deschanel and put him through when you get him on the line," Gregory called over his shoulder to his secretary as he walked into his office. "And Gladys? Call Sabrina Porter and tell her I'm pushing dinner back to 8:30 p.m." He stood in front of the large window that overlooked lower Manhattan. In the distance he could see the lines of cars moving across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Gladys poked her head in the open doorway several minutes later. "AJ Deschanel is on the golf course. I left a message that he is to call you ASAP. And…" she trailed off.

"And what?" Gregory asked as he turned away from the window.

"Ms. Porter. She's requesting to speak to you because the change in dinner plans isn't convenient for her. I told her that you were in and out of meetings, but-"

Sighing in aggravation, Gregory sank down into the leather chair behind his desk. "Tell her I'm busy. Then call her back in an hour and tell her we'll have to reschedule." Gladys nodded and left the office. When the door closed shut, Gregory leaned forward and plucked the autographed baseball from the metal tripod it sat on. Tossing the ball in his right hand, he sat back in the chair. His eyebrows furrowed in contemplation as he continued throwing the ball up into the air gently.

The thought of dealing with Sabrina's temper tantrum was enough to turn him off ever wanting to see the young socialite again. But the thought of spending the evening alone was an even bigger turn off. With the final toss of the baseball, Gregory sat it back on the stand and hit the intercom. "Gladys? Call Regina Addams and see if she's interested in the 8:30 dinner reservation."

* * *

Olivia sat at her small vanity in the corner of her bedroom. She leaned in closer to the mirror as she held the tweezers to her eye, plucking her eyebrows into gentle arches. The door flew open and she jumped in surprise, jerking the small metal instrument dangerously close to her eye. "AJ," she chastised, "_don't_ scare me like that." She sighed and continued shaping her eyebrows. 

AJ dropped a stack of folders onto the bench at the foot of the bed and crossed the room. Standing behind Olivia, he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "Sorry Angel. How was your day?" he asked as he turned and sat on the bed, pulling off his shoes.

"Fine," Olivia answered. "Bette came over for lunch and we did some shopping."

"You've been doing that quite a bit. Going out with Bette."

She turned around in surprise and stared at AJ for a moment. "No more than usual. Bette and I always go out on days I don't volunteer at the hospital."

"Really?"

"Really." Olivia pursed her lips and turned back to the mirror. "So, what's gotten you so excited that you're going around slamming doors open?"

Grinning like a schoolboy, AJ stood up and walked back over to Olivia. "I have just nailed an incredible deal with a New York company. This is the dawn of a new era for _Deschanel Shipping_."

"That's nice," she responded with barely feigned interest. AJ though was too caught up in his excitement to notice that his wife didn't quite share his jovial mood. "Which company?" she managed to ask.

"_Richards Enterprises_. Not the first company I would've chosen, but a good one nonetheless."

"Oh? What's wrong with it?" Olivia put down the tweezers and ran the sterling silver paddle brush through her long dark hair.

"Nothing. The company is fine. It's the person that I've been negotiating with that I'm not thrilled with."

"Who?"

"Gregory Richards. Have I ever mentioned him?" He continued after Olivia shook her head, "He's one of the most arrogant men I've ever met. Shrewd and calculating. A real shark."

"He can't be all that bad if you've agreed to work with him." Olivia watched AJ's tirade through the mirror and suggested playfully, "You sound a little jealous."

AJ froze and recovered from the look of guilt that washed over his face. "Jealous!" he scoffed. "Of a man like that! Don't be ridiculous. A man like that has no soul and would sell his mother to finance a deal." He turned away, repeating the ridiculousness of Olivia's observation.

Olivia rolled her eyes and decided to change the subject slightly. "So, when is this 'shark' from New York arriving?"

"Beginning of next week. And I've asked Maman to plan a dinner party to welcome Gregory to Sunset Beach. She could probably use your help, Angel."

"Oh, I'm sure," Olivia muttered. Covering with a cough, she said more clearly, "I think I'll just leave the details up to Julianna." She put the brush down on the top of the vanity and turned around to face AJ. "She's better at those sorts of things than I am."

"Alright. But I want you to look smashing. We're going to remind Gregory whose company sought who." Kneeling in front of Olivia, he begged, "Please be charming and gracious when you meet him. I don't want anything causing this deal to fall through."

"When have I not been charming?"

"That's my girl," he said with a smile. Staring into Olivia's bottomless blue eyes, he rested his hands on her knees. "Why don't I go shower and then you and I can…." Forcing a smile, Olivia nodded. AJ stood up and stroked her cheek with his finger. "I'll be back in a moment," he promised.

"I can hardly wait," she said under her breath as she watched the bathroom door close behind AJ. She waited until after the showerhead was on for a few minutes before she walked quickly over to the walk-in closet. She felt around in the closet as the sunlight faded from the sky. Pulling a shoebox off one of the side shelves, she removed a small pink plastic box from it. She popped open the box and took out the small, dome shaped rubber disk and the small bottle of spermicide. With lightening quick hands, she prepared the diaphragm and bent down to insert it.

AJ was back quicker than she imagined, coming out of the bathroom as she shoved the shoebox back onto the shelf. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and stood in the doorway of the closet. _Ready or not_, she thought to herself.


	5. Not What It Seems

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 5: "Not What It Seems"

The cacophany that came with the general set up of any Deschanel party drew Olivia out of her bedroom. She walked down the hall to the landing where she watched a series of mini-dramas unfold beneath her. Leaning her elbows on the railing, she sighed as her mother-in-law stormed across the tiled foyer.

"No, no, _NO_!" Julianna screeched. "I said that the chains of flowers were to be wrapped _around_ the banister, NOT underneath." She crossed her arms across her chest and watched as the maid unpinned the flowers and began again. "You! Those crystal glasses belong in the kitchen. Any extra crates should be distributed between the two bars."

"Where are the bars located, ma'am?" The hulking server, balancing two wooden crates on his shoulder, shifted his weight and looked at Julianna expectantly.

"One is through there," she said through gritted teeth, "and the other is outside." Julianna glared at the young man as he shuffled out to deliver the crates. As she turned around, seeking another person to berate, she glanced up and saw Olivia watching. "Olivia."

Olivia pushed herself up off the railing and walked down the stairs. "Is there anything that you need help with?" She sighed in relief after Julianna shook her head and started to turn away.

"I always forget how much goes into planning a party," Julianna muttered as Olivia walked past her. The younger woman rolled her eyes and cleared her expression before turning to face her mother-in-law. "So much has to be done before tomorrow evening. Flowers, caterers, musicians, servants...It's all so much work." She glanced up at Olivia. "You'd think I'd remember, considering how many parties we've hosted over the years."

"So traumatic that you've blocked it from your mind?" Olivia joked. Julianna frowned in response and the smile faded from Olivia's face.

"There's nothing upsetting _at all_ about being a Deschanel." She bent down and directed the maid's hands into wrapping the flowers around the wooden posts of the banister. "People in this town look up to us for guidance. For leadership. We are to be examples for those less than us." Julianna straightened her back and turned to Olivia. "Exemplars. The Deschanel's are the _creme de la creme_. And we take no less than the best. Which makes one wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

"Wonder how you were allowed in." She eyed Olivia before turning away and following the master chef into the kitchen.

* * *

Laughter. 

A child's laughter.

Gregory put down the file he was reviewing and walked out of his study. He followed the noise down the hallway to the living room. The room was empty but the high pitched giggling grew louder. He turned around in confusion.

More laughter.

A woman's laughter.

The melodious sounds drifted from the kitchen. As he walked closer, they rang louder and louder in his ear. He pushed open the swinging door and stared down at the small child with curly blond pigtails. She giggled and waved at him before running towards him. She threw her arms around Gregory's legs and looked up.

A gentle touch caressed his shoulder and he turned to the side, where he came to face with a pair of blue eyes. The deepest shade of blue he'd ever seen. Never ending sparkling pools of light that he could lose himself in. The woman's face was beautiful, but it was her eyes that attracted him, that drew him closer.

She leaned her head against his and kissed his cheek. Soft lips that he knew would feel wonderful on his own. That would trail over his chin and down his neck. Soft lips that could tease him into oblivion. And that didn't sound too bad.

The woman wrapped her arm around his waist as the little girl skipped over to the counter and scrambled onto the wooden stool. She leaned her elbows on the counter and pulled a glass of chocolate milk to her with small hands. She giggled as she slurped the cold drink through a straw. The woman laughed and pressed herself closer to Gregory. He wrapped his arm around her and noted the softness of her waist. Like a pillow.

His eyes flew open and he sat up in bed, clutching his pillow. He stared down at the softness before throwing it across the bedroom. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and leaned over to his nightstand. "Six a.m.," he muttered. Sitting up against his headboard, he closed his eyes. The feel of the little arms around his knees. The feeling of his arm around the woman's waist.

Gregory glanced around the large bedroom. He sighed deeply as he touched his cheek where the woman's lips were. He could still feel them there. Sighing once again, he stared out at the skyline that became lighter as daybreak drew nearer. He climbed out of bed and walked into the bathroom. _Quick shower and then it's off to LaGuardia_, he thought, _for two days of hell. Starting with dinner tonight at Chez Deschanel._


	6. Kismet

**_NOTE: I can't claim credit for the toast that Olivia gives. That goes to my two great-aunts from Ireland, Sara and Bridie._**  
(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 6: "Kismet"

_Reve de la Mer_ broke up the quiet twillight that fell over the beach. Dozens of beautiful tanned people in expensive clothing enjoyed the endless supply of alcohol and gourmet hors d'oeuvres that servers in starched uniforms offered on sterling silver trays. A small group of partygoers cheered as a waiter uncorked a bottle of champagne and the excess spilled over the rim. The sweet bubbly lapped over the stone patio as the music from the small band permeated through the house and the gardens.

Julianna Deschanel stood in the doorway and scanned the party with a critical eye. A week's worth of hard work and the mistakes of incompetent servants came together in the sum total that was this party. She watched and made sure the glasses were never empty and the cocktail plates always full. The success she felt dried up when her eyes fell on her husband. She frowned as Armando stood among several associates, puffing on a cigar and laughing heartily before he swallowed something she suspected to be alcohol. "That man gets more stubborn with age," she muttered to herself as she turned back to the party.

"Talking to yourself again, Maman?" AJ stood next to his mother and kissed her chek. She smiled and patted her son's shoulder affectionately. "Ahhh, don't worry. We'll make it our little secret." He took a flute of champagne off the passing tray and held up it up in Julianna's direction. "To you, Maman. The party is a success. Thank you for planning it."

Julianna cupped AJ's cheek with her manicured hand. "There is _nothing_," she said, "that I wouldn't do for you. Your happiness is all I care about." She took his hand and squeezed it as he murmured his thanks, his eyes searching the faces in the crowd. Julianna followed his line of vision until she came to Olivia on the other side of the room. Her eyes darkened and she tightened her grip around his hand, causing him to flinch and pull away.

Across the room, Olivia glanced up as Bette Douglas passed her a frothy drink with a paper umbrella sticking out of it and a spiral of orange rind hanging off the rim. "What the hell is that?"

Bette grinned and shrugged her shoulders. "Beats me," she said good naturedly, "but if you like it, I'll volunteer to saddle up to the bartender and pilfer the recipe from him." She winked and stirred the liquored beverage with the thin straw that stuck out of it.

"You're so bad," Olivia informed Bette as she examined the drink in her hand. She clinked her glass gently against her friend's and smirked. "Here's to it and to it and those that can do it, without any trouble at all. Up with it. In with it. Godsend. Win with it. And here's good luck to us all."

Amused laughter bubbled out of Bette's mouth. "I love that toast," she exclaimed as she took a deep sip out of her glass.

"You would. You have a unique gift for relating everything back to sex."

"Excuse me Livy...'Up with it and in with it'?"

"Oh," Olivia groaned, "the drink, Bette. _The drink_."

"Whatever, Toots. When you got it, you got it." She watched silently as Olivia tentatively sipped her drink. "So, uh, we never quite finished our conversation from a few days ago."

"There's nothing more to say really," Olivia managed to say as she swallowed a large gulp of her drink.

"Oh no, Livy. You're not getting out of it that easy." Olivia frowned as Bette continued in a loud whisper, "You can't say that you don't love your husband and just leave it at that." She touched Olivia's arm to get her attention. "Does AJ make you _that_ unhappy?"

"I'm not unhappy, not really. Just bored to tears with the man I am bound to until death parts us."

"Toots, I've got one word for you that I learned from old Charlie: divorce. If your marriage is going nowhere and giving you nothing, end it."

Olivia's chuckle dripped with sarcasm. "Bette, Bette. If I divorced AJ, his mother would hunt me down and murder me. And all because she'd never be able to step foot in her church again." She narrowed her eyes and swallowed some more of her drink. "Besides, unhappiness is just a state of mind."

Bette held up her glass and said softly, "Here's to it and to it." Olivia echoed her friend as their glasses clinked for a second time. Bette cleared her throat warningly as she held the glass to her mouth and AJ placed his hands on Olivia's shoulders.

"I hope that you ladies are enjoying yourselves," he said. Olivia downed the remainder of her drink in response and Bette forced a pleasant smile. "I'm sorry to pull you away Angel, but Gregory Richards just arrived and I want him to meet you." Olivia smiled at Bette and placed her empty glass on the rim of the potted plant before linking arms with AJ. "You look fantastic," he whispered as they walked across the room. He stroked her arm as he imagined the look of shock on Gregory's face when he saw Olivia. She quite possibly was the best, if not the _only_, thing that he had that Gregory didn't: a wife. And a beautiful one at that.

The younger Deschanel's approached Julianna and Armando. They turned away from their visitor as AJ extended his hand. "Gregory, good to see you. I'd like you to meet my wife, Olivia. Angel, this is Gregory Richards." Gregory silently ignored AJ's hand as the pair of brilliant blue eyes swept over him.

Olivia smiled as Gregory captured her hand and brought it to his lips. She vaguely registered AJ's grip tighten around her waist. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said with another soft smile as their hands fell away from his lips.

_This stranger couldn't be more different from AJ if he tried_, Olivia thought with a shiver as Gregory's dark eyes trailed down her body. _Charming, but controlled_.

Gregory let go of her hand and met her smile with one of his own. Her smile teased him. Taunted him into wanting to know more about the dark haired angel with the blue eyes of his dreams that stood before him, in the flesh.

Armando stepped between Gregory and Olivia, clasping Gregory's shoulder. "Welcome to Sunset Beach," he graciously offered. "I want to introduce you to some associates." He started to lead Gregory away before he turned around. "AJ. Come along." The young man reluctantly let go of Olivia and followed behind his father, a slight scowl painted on his face.

"It was pompous and inappropriate of _him_ to grope you like that," Julianna seethed when the trio of men were out of earshot.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Well, _I_ found our guest to be nothing less than polite. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to locate Bette." She smirked at Julianna before sauntering off to locate her wayward friend.


	7. Angels & Devils

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 7: "Angels and Devils"

"So, that's the famous Gregory Richards?"

Olivia turned to follow Bette's gaze and nodded. Gregory stood next to Armando and appeared to be in deep discussions with some business man from Los Angeles whose name she couldn't recall. His hands were clasped around a crystal tumbler of scotch that he sipped from sporadically. As if he felt her blue eyes boring holes into him, Gregory glanced in her direction and she turned away quickly. "He's awfully good looking," the red headed continued.

"You've heard of him?"

Bette shrugged. "Only what I've read about him."

Olivia grinned wickedly and turned back to her friend. "I'm surprised the supermarket rags would devote their precious time to covering the actions of a New York businessman."

"Ha, ha," Bette muttered. She pouted dramatically before Olivia giggled and patted her arm. Olivia's giggle was the type that was infectious and within a matter of seconds, Bette cracked a smile. She cupped Olivia's chin and looked deeply into her blue eyes. "You need to smile more. It suits you."

The laughter fell slowly from Olivia's face like a feather falling from the sky. She turned in AJ's direction and whispered, "I will when I find something to smile about." Grasping Bette's hand in her own, she smiled shakily. "Better?"

"No…but it's a start."

* * *

Gregory watched as Julianna and Armando said their good bye's and excused themselves for the evening. Though the hosts had retired, the party continued on in full swing. He worked the room in a way that would have made his father and Max proud, laying the foundations for new business relationships. 

The jet lag finally began to catch up with him and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He walked out onto the patio, where the lively notes from the band egged the guests on. The tired tension flamed across his back and rested heavily in between his shoulder blades. Gregory leaned on the stone railing, feeling the grit from the rock imprinting into his palms.

"You look tired."

He looked up and met the knowing stare of AJ's wife. Olivia. She stood in front of him, clutching a glass of champagne. "A little," he admitted as her lips parted slightly to swallow the drink. She put the flute down on the stone railing with a soft clink and leaned against it.

Olivia tilted her head and waited for Gregory to continue. Closer to him now, she was able to feel the depth of his dark brown eyes as they again moved over her face. She got the distinct impression that he was searching for something. _But what?_, she wondered as the band swung into an upbeat song.

Her patient smile told him that he wasn't meant to stop talking. "You know how these bicoastal flights are…" She nodded and fingered the smooth rim of the champagne flute.

"How long are you planning on staying?"

"A day or two. I need to get back to Manhattan afterwards."

"Not much of a vacation then, is it?" Olivia asked. His neat tuxedo and manicured appearance suggested that he wasn't the type of man who actually took vacations. She knew the kinds of men that Armando did business with and the man in front of her certainly fit the bill. His expression was hard, but his eyes spoke of a humor that he rarely revealed.

Gregory's shrug was noncommittal. "Wasn't really supposed to be one." Her smirk suggested that she thought that was too bad as she directed her attention to the gardens and dance floor below them. Her hips swayed gently and she tapped her hand on the hard stone in time with the music. A cool breeze swept through the garden, blowing the hair off her face and affording him a clear view of her profile. A pair of bejeweled chandelier earrings hung long from her ears, skimming the tops of her bare shoulders. She laughed out of the blue, causing the earrings to tinkle as the jewels gently struck one and other. "What's so funny?" he asked.

Olivia shook her head and pointed at a couple dancing. "My friend, Bette, always has a knack for finding a different man everywhere we go. I don't know why I am always so surprised though when I see her with them." She glanced at him and suggested, "Perhaps it's because I'm married?"

"Maybe," he said softly as she turned back to the dance floor. Her friend was burning up the dance floor with her partner, along with over half a dozen other couples. Gregory noted the flash of envy and the way she continued to move to the melody. "Do you like to dance?"

She chuckled and leaned in to him. "_I_ do," she whispered conspiratorially, "but _AJ_ doesn't. And since no man wants to cross Armando, his daughter-in-law often watches from the side." Her eyes locked with his and he saw loneliness echo from the depths of her blue orbs. And as quick as it came, it was gone.

He picked up her champagne glass and drank the remaining spirit. Olivia watched in silent amusement as he put it back down and held out his hand to her. "Would you like to dance?"

The intoxicating lure of Gregory's upturned palm and the sounds of the band enticed Olivia. She stared at his offering with tunnel vision, zeroed in on the best proposal for fun she had in a long time. After a moment, she nodded and took his hand, smiling at the warmth that she felt.

As she led him down the stone steps, he was close enough to her to detect the faintest whispers of her perfume. Light and airy, it was the type of flower scent that he imagined her to wear. "What's the name of your perfume?" he asked as they stepped onto the dance floor.

Her eyes wrinkled in confusion as she held her wrist up to her nose. "_Fleurs du Ciel_." She turned her wrist to his nose and jolted slightly when his breath hit her bare skin. "Why?" she teased. "Do you have a girlfriend who'd appreciate it?"

Gregory breathed in the scent before taking her hand and pulling her close. The fast paced song that brought them down segued into an easier beat that demanded the soft movements of two people pressed together. "No. What does it mean though?"

Olivia felt his hand caress her naked shoulder, his palm searing the cool skin with his touch. It slid over the bone of her shoulder blade and down a bit more before it moved over into the middle of her back. The weight of his hand on her back was unfamiliar familiar pressure. One that shouldn't feel so perfect, but it did nonetheless. "_Flowers of Heaven_," she whispered as he drew his head closer to hers.

"So you really are an angel, aren't you?" He smirked amusedly when she rolled her eyes at the reference to AJ's pet name for her. "Or is there more devil than angel?"

One eyebrow arched in surprise. "What do you think?" she questioned as they continued to shift their feet around the dance floor together.

He let his hand drop half an inch lower on her back, his finer gently stroking her with the movement. "I think there's just enough of both in you to keep AJ on his toes." She chuckled, a gentle laughter that enveloped them and drew Gregory closer.

From the house, AJ Deschanel stood at the patio as he searched for Olivia. His eyes simmered with dark anger. The evening that he had his mother plan with excruciating detail in the hope that it would impress upon Gregory who was in control of this business partnership had failed.

_Miserably_.

As he spoke to associate after associate of his father's, all he heard was ravings about Gregory Richards. Gregory, who completely turned around the division he managed at _Richards Enterprises _only a year and a half after getting his M.B.A. Gregory, who was known as being ruthless enough to pull off deals that seasoned veterans thought were impossible. And, did AJ know that Gregory was rumored to succeed his two older brothers as President and C.E.O. of _Richards Enterprises _when his father retired?

He clenched his fists as he recalled the way his father clasped Gregory's shoulder while he, Armando's _son_, was told to tag behind like a sickly lap dog. The personal shame was so great that he had retired to the wine cellar, indulging in the numerous bottles of expensive wine that his father had painstakingly amassed over his lifetime.

Now, as he stood on the patio, he began to feel the effects of his interlude in seclusion. His eyes were heavy over his blurry vision. A stale odor reeked from his mouth and his tongue felt like it was covered in a layer of thick velvet. Through the haze of misshapen bodies and distorted colors, he had a moment of clarity. And he saw his wife, _his _Olivia, dancing in the arms of the man he'd like to kill with his own bare hands.

Gripping the cold stone railing, AJ managed to make his way down the stairs and over to the edge of the dance floor. Through narrowed eyes, he watched his Olivia leaning into the enemy. His sight blurred and he blinked it away, refocusing on the way Gregory's hand seemed to be moving down his Angel's back. Disgusted with the behavior he was forced to endure, he turned away and stumbled over to the bar. "Bartender," he slurred slightly over his dry tongue, "gimme a whisky."

The bartender looked unsurely at AJ and began to shake his head but was stopped by his insistent growl. He removed the bottle of Irish whisky from below the counter and started to pour it into a cup when AJ sighed in frustration and grabbed the bottle from his hand. Tossing his head back, he swallowed the imported alcohol and flinched as it burned its way down his throat. He turned back to the dance floor and glared again at a dancing couple he assumed to be his wife in the arms of Gregory Richards. He couldn't be sure though. It was hard to tell as his eyesight blurred again and the entire scene became one huge blob of colors.

On the dance floor, Olivia and Gregory continued to sway together to one slow song after the other as the party pushed close to one a.m.

"So tell me," Gregory wondered aloud, "how someone as dull as AJ Deschanel managed to marry someone as spirited as you?"

Olivia's eyes narrowed and she glanced away. "Well-," she started.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Deschanel?" The butler shifted his weight uncomfortably and tugged at his hands, ignoring the sheen of nervous sweat.

She pulled away from Gregory's embrace as if she'd just realized she'd been embracing hot coals all along. "What is it Henri?"

Henri coughed nervously and pointed discreetly at the bar. "Mr. Deschanel…"

Both people turned around and saw AJ partially slumped over the bar and clutching a bottle of something in his hands. Olivia frowned and thanked Henri for telling her. After the butler excused himself, Olivia faced Gregory and sighed. The feeling of his hands could still be felt over her own fingers and on her back. She suffocated the feeling of longing that sprang up from the pit of her stomach. "I'm sorry but you'll have to-"

"I understand," Gregory interjected. He touched her hand, squeezing it for a moment and offering the briefest of smiles. "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again."

Olivia nodded and turned away. She brought her hands to the base of her neck and sighed again as she made her way to AJ. Her neck was warm to her touch, or her fingers were cool against her neck. She wasn't quite sure.

"No, noooh," AJ whined as the bartender attempted to wrestle the nearly empty bottle of whisky from his grip. Olivia placed her hand on AJ's shoulder and used his glance of surprise to take the bottle from him with her other hand. "Angel, that…was _mine_."

"Yes it was," she conceded with a frown, "but it's empty now so you have to return it to the bartender." She urged AJ into standing upright and he immediately wrapped his arm around her, generously passing his weight to her to brace. With a determined heave, she managed to get AJ moving in the direction of the stairs. "Say goodnight AJ."

"Goodnight AJ," he parroted back cheerfully as he waved dumbly to the guests that stopped to watch the spectacle.

Gregory watched from the dance floor as Olivia lugged AJ's body up the stone stairs slowly. A choir of mocking jeers and laughter rose from the crowd when AJ turned once more at the top of the patio and bid everyone a "Merry Christmas". His gaze shifted over to Olivia, who stood just next to AJ. The fury burning from her eyes would have been enough to silence her husband had he faced her direction. After several threats to start a rendition of some Christmas carol, Olivia tugged on his tuxedo jacket and he reluctantly followed her into the house.

"Old AJ really knows how to pack them away, doesn't he?" another guest asked Gregory. He turned away before offering an answer and walked up the stone stairs. All the time wondering who really kept who on their toes in the Deschanel marriage.


	8. Hangovers & Banging Doors

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 8: "Hangovers and Banging Doors"

The sunlight bled into the bedroom, creeping around the curtains and slithering up the bed to caress AJ's face. He shifted slightly before his eyes opened a crack before closing them again. Groaning, he rolled his heavy limbs over and reached for Olivia. He patted the empty side of the bed and forced his eyes open. Her side of the bed was made up neatly. Her way of mocking the mess he became last night. He pushed himself up and shaded his eyes until they adjusted to the light in the room. When it evened out, he noticed that he had managed to change out of his tuxedo last night. Or was it this morning?

AJ pondered the passage of time and the sadistic nature of sunlight as he stumbled into the bathroom. Leaning over the smooth marble of the counter, he cupped his hands under the running stream of water and splashed it on his face. He whined uncomfortably as the icy pool stung his face and chased away the lethargy that blanketed his being. He felt around for the hand towel and patted his face dry, blinking the last bits of sleep from his eyes.

Olivia's floor length, gilt-edged mirror stood in the corner of the bathroom. It forcibly confronted him with his haggard appearance. He ran his hand over the rough stubble of his cheeks and chin. The greenish hue of his skin contrasted the dark and hollowed smudges of exhaustion under his eyes. Tufts of hair stuck up at odd angles and he tentatively touched the angry handprint on his face. _What did I do last night? _Leaning closer to the mirror, he turned away from the bloodshot eyes that stared back at him.

The sound of his bedroom door banging open yanked young Deschanel out of his contemplation. He stepped hesitantly out of the bathroom, only to meet the glaring eyes of his father. Eyes that normally twinkled with ease and contentment now fueled nothing but anger…and disgust.

"Venez ici," Armando ordered with a stilled calmness that AJ instantly feared. He forced himself to pass the paralyzing fear and move closer to his father.

Armando stood ramrod straight, his hands clenched in the pockets of his clean cut trousers. His jaw tightened and the pressure fanned down his neck, where it congregated in the center of his chest. It continued to swell as AJ took one excruciatingly slow step after the other until he stood half a foot away from him.

"Father-"

"Ne parlez pas."

AJ hung his head and stared down at the carpet. The thick navy blue fibers were soft under his bare feet but offered no comfort. No brace against the onslaught of words and reprimands that threatened to fall from his father's lips.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Armando continued in English.

The young man raised his hazel eyes. Rather than meet his father's eyes, he kept his eyes and his shame firmly focused on his father's chest. He shook his head slightly.

Armando sighed heavily and sat down at the foot of the bed. Resting his toughened palms on his knees, he looked at his son. The smooth fabric of his pants reminded him of how far he'd come from working on the docks in Marseilles and later, San Francisco. Years of toil had earned him his own fleet of ships and a multi-million dollar business. And years ago, as the sun dipped behind the horizon, a lovely creature swathed in black lace and the blondest hair he'd ever seen entered his life. He created a seaside town out of the sand and created a legacy for his family. A legacy he one day hoped to leave for his son and his future grandchildren. The son that now stood before him, looked like a four year old rather than his actual his twenty-five years.

He shook his head and stood back up, grunting softly as his stiff knees cracked. "I'm not going to lecture you. You're a grown man. A married man. You should know where your responsibilities are." He started to walk out when Julianna met him at the doorway. Armando shook his head as she opened her small mouth to speak. He turned back to AJ and said softly, "I've never been more disappointed in you than I am right now. Et il me fait souffrir pour indiquer cela." He ignored Julianna's disapproving eyes as he walked out of the bedroom.

Julianna reached out to touch AJ's shoulder. He flinched and pushed her hand away, as if her fingers burned him.

"Not now, Maman," he muttered as he stormed into the bathroom.

Julianna cringed when the door met the frame with a resounding crack. Folding her arms across her chest, her eyes moved over her son's bedroom as the minutes rolled past. Silence was plentiful in the Deschanel home, but never had it been filled with such internal tension. The expanding quiet was disturbed by the sound of a splash. She wandered over to the window and pushed back the curtain in time to witness Olivia break the surface of the crystal blue water in the pool. Julianna's thin fingers choked the sheer fabric; her long red finger nails digging into her own hand as she gripped tighter. She watched as Olivia pushed her wet hair back off her face before climbing out of the pool and sprawling on the edge. Her eyes narrowed when Armando walked across the patio and sat down on the lounge near Olivia.

"She's taking everything," she muttered as Olivia leaned back to Armando in discussion. Julianna threw away the curtain, as if it had offended her in some way. She stared down at the crescent shaped impressions her nails left in the palm of her hand. "_Everything_. She'll destroy it all. And us along with it."


	9. Legacies

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 9: "Legacies"

Gregory followed the host to Armando's round table in the center of the Resort's restaurant. Bright sunshine beamed in through skylights carved into the ceiling and the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the golf course. The sounds of hushed conversation hummed in his ears as he sat in the cloth-draped chair the host pulled out for him. He glanced at the face of his wristwatch and confirmed that he was on time. In silence, he sat for several minutes studying the menu when he felt a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder.

"Gregory," Armando greeted in flawless English only accented by his French tongue, "thank you for meeting me." Gregory smiled and stood up, shaking the older man's hand firmly. The waiter eagerly stepped over to the table as the two took their seats. "A glass of Pinot Grigio. Gregory?"

"The same." Gregory nodded at the waiter and closed the menu, pushing it aside. "I wanted to thank you for the dinner welcoming me to your home. I appreciated it."

"Oh, it was nothing. Julianna was responsible for all of it."

Gregory shook off the icy sensation that tickled the back of his neck when he recalled the way Julianna's cool eyes appraised him. "Well," he managed to say, "please extend my thanks to her as well."

The waiter returned, placing two goblets of the golden wine in front of them. "Are you gentlemen ready to order?"

Armando nodded. "I'll have the spiced quail. And an order of French fries, extra salt." He grinned wickedly at Gregory's amused expression. "Julianna," he explained, "has me on a god-awful diet at home. If she asks, tell her I had vegetables."

Laughing in agreement, Gregory added, "And I'll have the pecan crusted pork tenderloin." The waiter collected the menus encased in leather folders and nodded at them before leaving.

"So, tell me about your business in New York." Armando sipped his wine and waited on Gregory.

"It is what it is." He held the thin stem of the glass between his fingers and tilted it, watching as the liquid rushed to one side of the hollowed space.

"You sound disappointed."

Gregory looked up quickly and shook his head. "No, no." He took a sip of his wine, swirling it around his mouth before he swallowed it. "Not disappointed. Just…nothing new to report."

The older man sat back and smiled in comprehension. "It happens that way sometimes. Be thankful for those moments. They don't take you away from your family." He eyed Gregory and asked, "When do intend to give up the bachelor life and settle down?"

Gregory chuckled. "Have you been talking to my mother?" His chuckle met Armando's and within moments, both were laughing heartily.

"Eleanor," Armando said between gasps for breath, "just wants to see you happy. That was what Julianna and I both wanted for AJ when he married Olivia." He cleared his throat and took another sip of wine. "Did you get to meet her?"

"Yes, I did." The conversation lulled as Gregory thought back to the feeling of her in his arms. His hand clasped around hers. His other hand trailing down her back as he drew her closer to him. The sweet scent of her perfume as she held the silky underside of her wrist up to his nose. "She seemed lovely."

"She is." The softness that warmed Armando's eyes at the mention of Olivia's name faded away as he thought of his son and the reason he asked to meet with Gregory. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get some business out of the way before our meal arrives." Gregory nodded and leaned closer. "There comes a time in a man's life when he's reached a level of contentment. He's made a success of his business and it's time for him to step aside to usher in the new generation. Your father and I are now at the juncture in our lives." Armando stared vacantly into space and continued, "It's a bittersweet realization. To know that you've made your mark on the world, but that you've done all you can do. It's a bit easier if you have an heir. Someone that you can pass on your legacy to. That's what children are. Our legacy. Through them, we get to live forever." He sighed and looked at Gregory. "You'll understand that one day."

"And you have AJ."

"AJ," Armando remarked ruefully. He pushed his damask napkin aside and clasped his hands atop the linen tablecloth. He met Gregory's eyes and said softly, "Legacy or not, children aren't always what we've hope they would be." He sighed and ran his finger over his ruby pinky ring. "They…They go their own way. They aren't so eager to learn the wisdom you are trying to impart. They aren't so willing to grow up. Nevertheless," he said as he cleared his throat, "I want to make a few provisions regarding several operations before I retire and pass everything on to my son. This new partnership between our two companies has been almost fifteen years in the making. Your father and I always wanted to work together, but the opportunity never arose."

"Until now."

"Until now," Armando repeated. "This arrangement is important to both of us because the risks and rewards are equally high. And it pains me to say this, but they are _too_ high to leave to AJ's discretion."

"Well, things wouldn't just be up to just AJ, Armando," Gregory insisted. "We fully intend to protect our investment."

Armando's head bobbed and he took another sip of his wine. "That is what I was counting on. By protecting your own interests, you'll be protecting mine as well. I have a request."

"Name it."

"When we meet tomorrow to finalize the terms of our partnership, insist on monthly meetings to review the prospective deals. Insist on coming out here once a month to check up on things, in the name of protecting your interests."

Gregory nodded immediately. "Done."

"You understand why I'm doing this, don't you?"

"Of course," he replied. He raised his glass in toast. "To legacies…Long may they live."

"To legacies," Armando echoed and the two men drank in silence. "Do you still intend to leave tomorrow evening?"

"I was planning on it. Why?"

"There is an associate of mine that is coming down from San Francisco the day after tomorrow that I'd like you to meet. He and I have a breakfast meeting scheduled. I think you should attend."

After mentally reviewing his calendar and determining that there was nothing back in Manhattan that demanded his immediate attention, Gregory nodded. "Alright."

Armando brought his hand down on the table. "Excellent. Also, I want to have you up to the house for dinner again. But this time, it'll be just family."

"Sounds wonderful," Gregory responded as the thought of seeing AJ's blue-eyed angel again entered his mind. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."


	10. The Witch of the Western Shore

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 10: "The Witch of the Western Shore"

There is great peace that comes with solitude. Not just for the fact that one is alone, but the fact that one is alone with their thoughts. Anything and everything could be pondered. Past and future decisions could be mulled over. The mind could wander freely through the different rooms of their memory, visiting old friends and reliving triumphs. Or facing old demons and confronting painful tragedies. With the good came the bad.

The possibilities were endless, as ever changing and constant as the sea that lay to Olivia's right. Or the clouds in the sky that looked down on her. She sighed and rolled over onto her back. The weather that began with vibrant sun and warm breezes became temperamental as it moved into the afternoon. As Apollo led his fiery chariot across the sky, he darted behind numerous clouds. _Making it bloody difficult to tan_, Olivia thought to herself as she opened her eyes and sat up.

The wind blew harshly off the ocean, bringing with it the subtle scent of rain. She looked closely at the horizon and studied the thick black clouds that loomed. If she stared out at them long enough, she was almost able to see her reflection in them. Shaking her head, she twirled a piece of hair around her finger. In an hour's time, the sand would kick up and the palm frond would bristle as the strong wind ushered in the storm clouds and the fat raindrops. Bolts of silver lightening would hit the beach, crystallizing the white sand and illuming the roaring waves.

But for now, the sun was still out and about, though partially hidden behind a fluffy white cloud. Over the sound of the waves smashing into the hard and wet sand of the beach came the soft clicking of heeled shoes as they strode purposefully across the patio. Olivia turned around after they abruptly stopped. "Julianna."

Julianna's eyes, mascara and eye shadow applied with a heavy hand, narrowed as she walked around and stood in front of her young daughter-in-law. She watched as Olivia knotted her hair at the nape of her neck and then looked up at her expectantly.

"Was there something you needed?" she continued.

"No. Not me."

"Who then?"

"AJ."

Olivia scoffed and stood up, locking her gaze with Julianna's. Matching blue eye for blue eye. "What AJ _needs_ is a strong cup of black coffee and some aspirin." She adjusted the bottom half of her bikini, a small scrap of material held together by thin strings that rode low on her hips.

"Precisely."

Olivia blinked in surprise at Julianna's readiness to agree with her. From the day she met Julianna it seemed that the woman had made it her mission to be as difficult as she could be. Not having much experience with mothers herself, Olivia was unsure of the dynamic between AJ and his. After dating him for a few months, she came to realize that their relationship was close. _Extremely_ close. AJ deferred to his mother for all major decisions that he needed to make. Olivia's hopes for a small wedding with very little fuss were dashed when Julianna informed her that the guest list topped six hundred, there was an order placed for two dozen white doves, and the menu consisted entirely of French gourmet cuisine.

"So," Olivia started, "if we agree that's what AJ needs, why aren't you telling _him_?"

"Because I'm telling you. You are his wife." She folded her arms across her chest and glared at Olivia. "_You_ are his wife. He needs to be managed. You could be handling him and this absurd situation better."

The laugh exploded out of Olivia's mouth before she was able to cover it with her hand. "Man-, Managed…Managed better?" She gave up on covering her mouth and laughed freely. Julianna frowned at the uncontrolled spectacle Olivia became, a mass of shaking shoulders and hysterical laughter. "Ow," she whined as she pressed her hand into the stitch on the side of her stomach. She breathed deeply and sucked back more laughter that threatened to spill out. "So, I need to manage him? Is that what you're saying?"

"I fail to see the humor in this situation, _ma chere_." Sharp daggers shot jointly out of Julianna's mouth and eyes. "The wife is the backbone of a marriage. _Any_ marriage. And I realize that you didn't have the best role model when it comes to a successful marriage, but that is no excuse." She cut off Olivia's objection and ignored the dark fury in her eyes. "You need to control this situation. You-"

"_I_," Olivia interrupted forcefully, "am _not_ his mother."

"You aren't a mother…to _anyone_."

Olivia froze, straightening her spine and returning Julianna's glare. _Here we go_. She sighed, boredom clinging to it as Julianna took a deep breath.

"This family," Julianna spit out, "is evergreen. We are eternal. We have a legacy to maintain. A legacy like _no_ other." She turned and gestured at the beach with her palm upturned. "All this will one day be AJ's. And after, it will be his son's." She shifted back to Olivia when she heard her start to turn away and grabbed her arm. "It would be easier to think about the future if AJ had a son. An heir."

Olivia shook Julianna off and pulled away. She rubbed her arm and could feel that Julianna's iron grip would leave a bruise behind. With narrowed eyes and a clipped tone, she muttered, "Who needs a child with AJ around?"

"_What_?"

"You heard me," Olivia snapped. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes as a strong breeze howled and whipped across the patio. "I'm not discussing this with you further. A child will happen…if it's meant to be."

"Well it had better," Julianna said slowly. "Otherwise, what would be the point of keeping you around?"

Olivia smirked and said with a sweetness she never felt when addressing Julianna, "That's why I'm not _your_ wife." She rotated on her heel and started back for the house, ignoring the holes that her mother-in-law singed her back.

* * *

The bedroom was as quiet as a tomb. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the sunlight that was so prevalent earlier. The wooden blades of the ceiling fan, rotated lazily and relieved the warm room with a draft. AJ sprawled across the bed in his bathrobe, one leg off and his arm flung across Olivia's side. His chest rose and fell with an unnaturally slow rhythm that didn't falter. Even when the door flew open and Olivia barreled through.

She stared at AJ, breathing heavily as the adrenaline coursed through her veins when she recalled the chat she had with Julianna. Her stare turned into a glare after she slammed the door shut with no response or movement from her husband. She marched over to the stereo on the table and turned the volume dial hard to the left. With a glance back at the bed, she flicked the power switch.

With a startled gasp, AJ jumped awake. Blinking wildly, he managed to brace his hand so that he didn't tumble off the bed. "Angel! What are you doing!"

"What!" Olivia shouted over the deafening music.

He rushed over to the stereo, smacking its buttons blindly until it powered off. He rubbed his eyes and repeated his question.

Olivia pouted and touched his arm. "Oh I'm _sorry_," she oozed dramatically. "Did I _wake_ you?"

He patted her hand comfortingly. "It's all right Angel."

She smacked his hand away. "No! It's not 'all right Angel'. You made a fool of yourself last night! Do you realize that!"

"I…don't remember," AJ faltered.

"You don't remember? Well let me refresh your memory, _Angel_…"

"Say goodnight AJ."

"Goodnight AJ," he parroted back cheerfully as he waved dumbly to the guests that stopped to watch the spectacle.

Lugging AJ's body up the stone stairs from the garden turned out to be more of a project than she anticipated. His arms were like lead around her neck as she urged his legs over the stone. "Damnit AJ, one foot in front of the other."

"Look Angel…The people are waving goodbye! I should say something," he exclaimed as they reached the top. AJ turned to the crowd and threw his arms out wide, as if he could envelop them from the balcony. "MERRY CHRISTMAS!" He pushed Olivia away as she struggled to regain her breathing. "JOYEUX NOEL!"

Olivia's cheeks burned as AJ's "holiday" wishes were met with mocking laughter. She glared at the stupid grin that painted his face because she knew that he'd never remember this. He'd never remember the way people laughed and pointed at the embarrassing lump of flesh that he became when he drank. The way Gregory Richards stared up at them, pity written across his face. Damnit, she thought. I don't want his pity. I want him to do other things to me. Olivia bit her lip after her last thought. Where did that come from, she wondered. I barely know the man.

"I know MANY carols," AJ announced to the crowd. "I can sing one now if you want!"

"That's it," she sighed. She tugged on AJ's coat. "Let's go AJ. It's time for bed."

AJ turned and threw his arm around Olivia's shoulder as she led him back into the house and to the staircase. "Bed?" he slurred. "But I'm not sleepy, Angel."

Olivia gripped the railing as she hoisted AJ's heavy body up the stairs with her. "I don't really care at this point." She reached out and grabbed the collar of his tuxedo jacket before he tripped and fell face first on the top stair. "You're going to sleep this off before you embarrass yourself and your father any more."

"My father? Is Father here?"

She hushed him as they walked down the hall to their bedroom, even though the bedrooms for both his parents were at the opposite end of the house. Sometimes she wished she and AJ maintained separate bedrooms the way that Julianna and Armando did. "No, thank god. He went to bed hours ago."

He stumbled into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. "Angel? Pull my shoes off." He held up his foot expectantly.

"Are you kidding me?"

AJ lifted his head and said dazedly, "Please…" He pushed himself up and rested his upper body weight on his elbows. "Angel, please…My head is spinning."

Stepping out of her own shoes, Olivia shook her head. "Do it yourself." She walked over to the bureau and began removing her turquoise and silver jewelry. With the utmost discreetness, she watched through the mirror as AJ stood up and wobbly made his way over to her.

He pressed himself against her and covered her breasts with his hands. He moaned softly as he massaged them clumsily. She rolled her eyes and bit her lip when he kissed the side of her neck. She turned around and he immediately moved his lips to hers. Wrapping his heavy arms back around her neck, he sucked on her bottom lip before pushing his tongue inside her mouth. She raised her hands to his chest and pushed him away.

"Not tonight," she snapped. "You're drunk."

"But in love," he leered as he grabbed at her thin fabric of her shirt. AJ shoved his hands up the front of her shirt, marveling at the soft warmth he felt. And that contrasted the stinging slap he felt on the side of his face.

"I said NOT TONIGHT." Olivia pushed his hands away and stormed into the adjoining bathroom.

AJ stared at the closed door before backing away from the bureau. His knees hit the bed and he fell back, his head landing on the feather embrace of the pillow. "Angel," he sighed as his eyes closed, "my shoes."

Olivia came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, muttering curses under her breath. She tightened the sash on the robe as she went to AJ's side of the closet and pulled a pair of his pajamas off the shelf. Walking back to the bed, she continued to mutter curses as she stripped off his tuxedo and changed him into his nightclothes. She hurled his damn shoes at the wall, smiling victoriously when they hit wall with a resounding thunk…

AJ touched the spot on his cheek, where the handprint almost faded away. "Angel-," he started.

"Don't Angel me. I've had enough of the Deschanel's for one day." She kicked off her shoes and dropped the towel that was covering her scantily clad body. "I'm going to take a bath….ALONE!" she added when AJ's eyes bugged out of his head.

And for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, the bathroom door slammed shut.


	11. Assignation

****

NOTE: This chapter is RATED ADULT for sexual content.

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 11: "Assignation"

White washed walls of the hospital provided little comfort for the patients. The large blank space bled on for infinity, glaring under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Combined with the overpowering scent of bleach and antiseptics, it is a wonder that any healing could be done at all. The odors were pervasive and had the unnatural ability to drown out any other smells, pleasant or not. Which is why when Olivia Deschanel volunteered at the hospital, she limited her activities to the _Deschanel Children's Wing_.

Compared with any other floor of the hospital, the children's wing had cheery walls painted a sunny shade of yellow. Bright murals of fictional characters adorned the walls of the waiting room and the patient rooms. Large windows afforded sweeping panoramic views of the crystal blue ocean and the life force it exuded.

The seven-year-old girl rested on the bed, her left leg suspended above her body in traction. She tugged on the sleeve of Olivia's gauzy peach tunic and batted her long eyelashes when she got her attention. "You stopped reading, Livy."

Olivia smiled apologetically and focused her attention on the large book she held in her hands. "Sorry Amelia. Where was I?"

With a dramatic sigh, she flung her hand down on the page. "Right there."

"Oh, that's right." She cleared her throat and continued reading, "But the fairy knew different. She reached into her drawstring satchel and blew the magic dust on the wilted flower. She closed her eyes as the sparkles settled amongst the dirt surrounding the rose. Within moments, the deep green leaves began to perk-"

"Is it really magic?"

Olivia looked up from the book and into Amelia's warm brown eyes. "Of course." She reached over and tucked a long blond curl behind the little girl's ear. "Don't you believe in magic?"

Amelia grinned, showing off her toothless grin. "I was a fairy last year for Halloween. Mommy sewed wings on the back of my costume and I got to wear stockings with glitter on them!"

"I'm sure you looked adorable."

"I did." She giggled when Olivia shook her head. "Well, I _did_!" she insisted.

"Excuse me ladies."

Olivia turned around to the door. "Armando! What are you doing here?" She turned back to the bed-ridden child. "Just a moment Amelia." She left her with the book and followed Armando out of the room. Where she found Gregory Richards leaning casually against the desk of the nurse's station. "What are you _both_ doing here?"

Armando kissed her cheek and smiled. "We were supposed to have a breakfast meeting with an associate from out of town."

"And you didn't?"

"Oh no," Gregory piped up, "we had the meeting. Just not the breakfast part of it." Olivia turned to him and smiled, a broad gesture that stretched pink lips over white teeth.

"I was giving Gregory a tour of the children's wing. His family made a generous donation when we were constructing it three years ago. I wanted him to see it before he went back to New York." Armando wheezed and wiped a handkerchief across his glistening forehead.

"Are you feeling well?" Olivia asked, concern cloaking her tone of voice.

"No, ma chere. Gregory and I were going to go to lunch but I'm feeling a tad bit under the weather. I was wondering if you would take my place."

Olivia eyed Gregory and the easy way his lips turned into a pleased smirk. "Are you sure? I mean," she rushed on, "you don't want me to take you home?"

"Bah!" Armando sighed. "Don't be silly. You two go to lunch and enjoy yourselves." He turned to Gregory and gestured him closer. "She speaks five languages so I'm sure you won't have any difficulties finding something to talk about."

"I'll keep that in mind," Gregory said as he shook Armando's hand.

Before Armando could leave, Olivia wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tightly. "Promise you'll go home and rest?"

"Absolument, ma chere," Armando replied with the barest of whispers. He touched Olivia's cheek and she shivered at the coolness she felt. With a smile and soft "A bientot", Armando was gone. Leaving Olivia alone with Gregory.

Gregory stared at Olivia, taking in the sight of her up close again. "How are you?" Watching the way one of her pigtailed braids fell off her shoulder and bounced teasingly before settling over her back.

"Fine, thank you." She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "I'm sorry to say that Armando overstepped his bounds by offering me as a lunch date."

Eyebrows raised in surprise, Gregory asked, "Did he?"

Olivia nodded. "Yes. You see, I already have a date…with a very special person. I'm sure that had Armando known, he never would have suggested I take his place." She bit her lip but was unable to control her laughter after Gregory frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry," she managed to say between chuckles. She wiped the tear of laughter that rolled down her cheek and took a steadying breath. "I just couldn't resist."

He grins and asks, "Were you serious though? About having plans?"

Grabbing his hand, Olivia pulls him back into the hospital room. "Yes…with Amelia." She led him over to the bed and smiled down at the little girl. "Amelia, this is Gregory. Gregory, this is Amelia."

"Hi," Amelia said shyly as she smiled up at the new visitor. "Livy, can we keep reading?"

"Of course. Gregory is going to read with us."

"Really!" the little girl exclaimed as Gregory asked, "I am?"

"Yes and yes." Olivia pointed to the chair on the other side of the bed. "Sit there." She smiled as Gregory dutifully took his place. "Now, shall we go back to the book about fairies? Or start a new one?"

"A new one! One about a princess…named 'Amelia'!" Amelia rifled through the stack of books and selected one with a delighted cry. "Here!" She thrust the desired book at Gregory. "You start."

Gregory took the book and glanced at Olivia, noting the amusement that shined in her eyes. _I've addressed the Board of Trustees and numerous business rivals…How hard could it be to read a story to a child? _He cleared his throat and started to read.

"No, no!" Amelia interrupted after a few moments. "You aren't doing the voices good!"

"The voices?" he asked as he looked at Olivia. She snickered and covered her mouth with her hand.

Amelia sighed and addressed Gregory as she would an impertinent child. "You don't sound like the princess. You sound like _you_. Do a princess voice!"

He looked helplessly at Olivia and she giggled. "Amelia, why don't we take turns reading? I'll be the princess and we'll let Gregory be the prince." The little girl bobbed her head eagerly and leaned back as the story continued.

Over the span of several storybooks and numerous "voices", Gregory was able to steal a few glances at Olivia. The way she gently spoke to Amelia and brushed the hair out of her eyes. The way their hands were entwined and their heads leaned together as Olivia whispered tales of princesses and far away places in the girl's ear. The way she smiled at him when she happened to glance up and caught him staring. She closed the book and sat up.

"What are you doing?"

She held her finger to her lips and gestured down at Amelia. The little girl's eyes were closed and her breathing was deep. Olivia pulled the covers up over Amelia's body and kissed her forehead. "We can go to lunch now," she whispered as she stood up. She took the book from Gregory and placed it on top of the stack next to the bed.

Gregory stood up and followed Olivia out of the room. As they walked down the hallway to the elevator, he remarked, "You're good with her."

Olivia met his gaze and smiled. "Children are perceptive. They like people who like them. She liked you."

He glanced down in embarrassment. "She adores you."

"Well, we've gotten to be good friends. Amelia's been in the hospital for two weeks. She was involved in a car accident with her parents and they're both still in intensive care. Hopefully, the whole family will get to go home together in a few weeks though." She and Gregory step into the elevator. "So, where do you want to go to lunch?"

Gregory pushes the button for the lobby. "I'll let you be the captain of this magic carpet ride. You tell me."

Olivia narrowed her eyes in thought. "How do you feel about sushi?"

"I'm game if you are."

* * *

The sun was setting on the beach, staining the blue water a brilliant shade of red-orange. The storm from the day before yesterday had burnt off any remaining humidity, gracing southern California with a rare moment of cool weather. 

Gregory followed Olivia through the revolving door into the hotel lobby. "Thank you for lunch and the tour. It's easy to see why Armando loves this town so much."

"He built it from nothing," Olivia explained. "He thinks of it as his home, more than France even."

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two, the first such silence all afternoon. Armando had been right. Olivia _was_ easy to talk to. She was intelligent and had a wicked sense of humor. And she was married. That obscenely large diamond winked at him all afternoon, constantly reminding him that AJ got to call the beautiful vision in front of him "wife."

"Let me buy you a drink."

Olivia glanced up in surprise. "A drink?"

"Oh come on…It's the least I can do. You played tour guide so well." He stared at her, locking his eyes with her blue ones. "Have a drink with me."

She stared back into his eyes, finding herself unable to say no. She nervously twisted her engagement ring, turning the diamond into her palm as they walked into the bar. A waitress led them to a dime-sized table and promised to return shortly with their frozen margaritas.

"So, you never got a chance to answer my question from the other night." Gregory leaned back in his chair and watched confusion wash over Olivia's face. "How someone as boring as AJ met and married someone as interesting as you?" he reminded her.

"Oh." She stirred the margarita the waitress placed before her and sipped it tentatively. "We met at UCLA. He was doing his graduate work there and I was in the linguistics program." Olivia shrugged and smoothed out the napkin on the table. "We dated for a year and married after I graduated." She forced a smile and said, "Enough about me. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

"I like who I'm seeing right now." His bold statement caused Olivia to choke on her margarita. He leaned forward and covered her hand with his. "Have you ever seen something so beautiful it made you wonder if your eyes had worked properly before that moment? Like that moment in _The Wizard of Oz _where the black and white becomes color for the first time."

Olivia chewed on her lip and her heart started to pound furiously against her chest. "Are you sure you just don't need to have your eyes examined?" she managed to ask.

He noted the rising color in her cheeks. "I'll let you examine anything of mine you wish," he said softly after a moment. He stood up, tossing a handful of folded up bills on the table. She stared up at him as he extended his hand to her. A battle sprang up within her. Her head told her to refuse. _Just stand up and walk away_, it instructed. But as she looked into his eyes, the voice of her heart rang louder in her ears and overpowered her head. _Take his hand_, her heart urged.

So she did.

* * *

For Gregory, the elevator ride up to his hotel room seemed to take an eternity. They stood side-by-side in silence and without touching. He was never so relieved when the doors rolled open and he ushered Olivia down the hall to his room. He locked the door firmly behind them, waiting for the reassuring click before he turned around. 

Olivia stood by the window, her hands clasped in front of her. He leaned against the door and watched her, the fading sunlight cocooning her in its warm embrace. He'd rather that she be in his. She fidgeted anxiously when his gaze never shifted from her. Carefully, she stepped out of her straw sandals and kicked them out of the way.

Moving towards her now, Gregory unfastened his belt and let if fall to the floor. He reached out for her, capturing one of her braids in his hand. With restrained hands, he pulled the band out of her hair and untwisted the rope of hair until it hung loose. Touching her, in this intimate way, proved to be too much. His hand began to tremble and he fumbled with the second braid. Olivia's hands brushed his as she reached up and assisted him.

He fingered her hair, tangling his hands in it as he pulled her closer to him. Breathing in the scent of her hair, he let his lips graze the side of her head. The breath caught in her throat as she wrapped her hands around his waist, easing up his shirt. His breath was hot against her skin as her fingers ran across his bare back. She pulled the shirt off his body and tossed it aside as his lips found the soft lobe of her ear. He trailed his hands out of her hair and down her back, cupping her rear end and drawing her even closer to him. His hands went around her front, wedging into the small space between their bodies, where he found the zipper of her jeans. Anxious hands pulled the metal clasp down, pushing the jeans down off her hips and noting the absence of panties. _More devil after all_, he thought.

The soft flesh of her hips fascinated him and he rested his hands on them gently as she forced his pants down. Kicking them off, Gregory walked backwards to the bed and fell back on it. Looking up at Olivia, he watched as she stepped out of her own pants and sat on top of him. She pulled off her shirt and the thin material fell to the floor slowly. Lying down, her head was only inches away from his. He brushed away the hair that hung down in his face.

She shivered when he touched the side of her face, caressing her briefly before his fingers snaked around her neck. Kissing her was like tasting heaven. A sweet surrender that he'd gladly give himself to. Her bent legs locked tightly on either side of his body as they continued to explore their mouths. Their tongues fought one and other until she pulled back gasping for oxygen. He rolled over onto his side, pinning her to him as he locked a leg around her. Her lips found his neck, sucking the skin of it like a dying man would water. He ran his hand down her side and over her hip, leaving behind a trail of scorched flesh, before dipping down to caress her inner thigh.

Her primitive moan rumbled in his ear forced him from their embrace. She looked up in confusion, her eyes asking the question her absent voice could not. He turned her onto her back and just stared. He stared at her flushed complexion and heaving chest, trailing his finger down the valley between her breasts. His other hand dug beneath her thigh to pull him to her. He lifted her leg around his waist as he leaned back over her. Her moan as he entered her was stifled when he pressed his mouth to hers. He braced his elbows on either side of her head as her other leg wrapped around his waist. Their cries of pleasure muffled against each other's as their lips molded together, only breaking apart to gasp for oxygen.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Olivia felt adrenaline and life course through her veins as Gregory moved within her. The feel of his weight on top of hers told her this was real. This was no dream. The feeling of him in her was no dream. She closed her eyes and prayed that she'd never wake up from his reality. Her breathing became labored and she began to pant when she felt the swell of their pleasure. With a shot of energy, she pushed him up and onto his back, grinding down on him hard without losing any momentum. She pressed her hands into his shoulders and stared down at him.

Gregory looked up at her and he knew that he'd remember her in this moment. Her eyes were brighter than ever, her lips red and swollen. He continued to thrust upwards forcefully and ate more at the lips that seduced him. He watched as she pushed herself up again, his lips already aching for hers as she moaned and arched her back.

As the rush of the climax hit her, Olivia clenched her fists and closed her eyes. The fulfillment rushed into her in waves and she felt Gregory shudder beneath her, his hiss of satisfaction following a moment later. Her head spun and she slid off him, leaning back against the headboard. As her body returned to earth, she felt something wet in her hand. She looked down and opened her fist, wincing at the pool of hot sticky blood that stained the soft flesh of her palm and her square cut engagement ring.

Gregory opened his eyes and saw her kneeling on the bed next to him. He sat up and followed her gaze down to her hand and then the bed as the blood dripped down onto it. Taking her hand, he wiped away the blood and kissed the cut. "All better," he whispered.


	12. At the End of the Day

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 12: "At the End of the Day"

The darkness enshrouded _Reve de la Mer _the way barnacles clung to the bottom of a boat. Walking through the cloak of night to the front door, Olivia smoothed her shirt and adjusted her long braids over her shoulders. She pushed open the door and was greeted by Henri.

"Madame," he bowed. Taking her bag, he pointed in the direction of the dining room. "Dinner has already been served."

"Bloody hell," she muttered under her breath. She flashed Henri a bright, but forced, smile. "Thank you Henri." Olivia continued to fuss with her appearance as she walked around the corner and down the hall to the dining room. She took a deep breath before walking into the large room. "Hello."

Two massive crystal and gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling at either end of the table that sat ten. Gold and ivory inlay wove a twisting vine of flowers around the edge of the milk chocolate wood table. A large spray of tulips and irises sat at the center, a reminder of earth that juxtaposed the empyreal mural of clouds and cherubs on the ceiling. The beauty of the dining room though was disregarded with the three distinct welcomes she received. Armando smiled kindly and nodded. AJ jumped up from his seat and embraced Olivia. Julianna put down her fork, the loud clink echoing in the large room.

AJ's arms around her stabbed Olivia's heart, a forceful reminder of Gregory's hands on her body. She gasped and gently pulled away from him as he asked, "Where have you been, Angel?"

"Yes, Olivia. Do tell us what you've been up to _all_ afternoon." Julianna narrowed her eyes and sipped her wine as Olivia sat down in the chair AJ held out for her. "Where were you? Who saw you?" She watched Olivia finger one of her braids and open her mouth to speak.

"Olivia," Armando reminded his wife, "was kind enough to take my place at lunch with Gregory Richards." He smiled again at Olivia.

"Lunch ended _hours_ ago." Julianna pushed away her plate and waved her hand over it. The steward, who blended into the wall, sprang to life and collected the unwanted plate without a word.

"Well, after lunch I took Gregory on a tour on Sunset Beach. Then we had a drink in the bar at the Resort." Olivia shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably as AJ rested his hands on them and kissed the top of her head. She shook her head as Therese came in with a full plate of food. "No thank you. I'm not hungry."

"Thank you again, ma chere. I hope it didn't inconvenience your afternoon."

Olivia smiled as she took a sip of ice water. "Don't be silly, Armando. I didn't have plans anyway."

AJ cleared his throat loudly and chided quietly, "But Angel, we had plans to go sailing this afternoon."

"We did? I didn't know that." Olivia looked up at him in confusion as her mother-in-law clucked her tongue in displeasure…or disapproval, she wasn't quite sure which. Newfound guilt seeped into her being when she recalled the way she and Gregory undressed each other with painstakingly slow fingers. The way his hands ran over her body. The way his eyes seemed to bore into her soul as he moved above her, his gaze never leaving her face. She looked down and tugged at her hands anxiously as the color rose in her necks and cheeks.

"Well, it _was_ meant to be a surprise." He chuckled softly as Olivia lowered her head. She stood up quickly, pushing the chair back into AJ's gut. He exhaled heavily as he clutched his stomach. Julianna's heavily penciled eyebrows shot up as Olivia turned around to face AJ.

"I'm sorry for this afternoon." Olivia tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans, flinching as the cut on the inside of her palm rubbed against the rough material. She looked back at Armando, then Julianna. "If you'll excuse me, it's been a long day. I think I'm going to retire for the night." She leaned forward and pecked AJ's cheek. "Good night."

A chorus of parting words ushered Olivia out of the dining room. As she stepped up the staircase, she put her hands over her flaming cheeks and sighed deeply. Once in the safe haven of her bedroom, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes. One hand clenched the cool brass doorknob, the other fingered her neck.

"All better," he whispered. He kissed the inside of her palm again as she laid down on her side. He cupped her cheek with his other hand and placed the softest of kisses on her lips.

She wrapped her arm around his waist and drew herself closer to him, deepening their kiss. With a sigh, she tucked her face into his neck and rubbed his back.

His cheek rested on hers and he whispered in her ear, "It's going to be hell sitting across from you and not being able to put my hands on you."

Olivia opened her eyes as her lips curled up into a smile. She jerked her hand away from the doorknob as it turned counterclockwise and the door pushed open. "AJ," she gasped and backed into the room.

He kicked the door gently closed with his foot. With a smile, he walked towards her and held out a covered bowl. "I know you said you weren't hungry Angel, but…there's always room for _dessert_." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he removed the silver cover. "Vanilla bean ice cream with a splash of _Bailey's Irish Cream _on it. Just the way you like it."

"Thank you," she said softly as she took the bowl and sat down at the foot of the bed. Olivia looked at the bowl and then back up at AJ. "I need a spoon."

AJ held up a small silver spoon victoriously as he kneeled in front of her. He scooped up a bit and held it up to her. She hesitated before wrapping her lips around the cold offering. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "For the other night." He returned the spoon to the bowl and set it aside. Taking her hands in his, he rubbed them and repeated as she looked away, "I'm sorry. For _everything_."

"You're always sorry," she muttered.

He let go of her hand and touched her cheek, turning her head back to face him. "I wanted to make it up to you. I had a romantic afternoon on the boat planned. Just you, me, and a bottle of champagne. And-"

Gregory, his fingers caressing her inner thigh…His hands pushing down her pants and pulling her closer…Kneeling above her, his brown eyes flashing before that first gratifyingly powerful thrust in to her…

"-you so much, Angel."

Olivia's head snapped to attention as she refocused back on AJ. "What?"

"I love you so much, Angel." AJ leaned up and kissed her lips. He pushed her back onto the bed gently and leaned over her. A trail of kisses led him to the base of throat where he occupied himself for a moment before moving up to her mouth again. For the briefest of moments, it was not AJ's face that she saw. It was not AJ's hazel eyes that looked down into hers…but Gregory's dark brown ones. It was Gregory's face that she reached up for. Gregory's neck that she wrapped her arms around as she returned his kiss eagerly. Replaced cruelly a moment later by AJ, who looked back and smiled at her.

Olivia held up her hands as he moved for her mouth again. "Wait." She pushed him off her and stood up. "I'm just going to slip into something more _comfortable_." She ducked into the closet and called out, "I'll just be a moment." She threw a smile over her shoulder as she walked across the room to the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her. The telltale click of the lock followed a second later. AJ grinned broadly as he placed a heaping spoonful of her ice cream in his mouth.

In the bathroom, Olivia dropped her bunched up nightgown on the marble counter and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She unwrapped the silk bundle and pulled out the small pink box, only to drop it down again a second later. _Oh damn_, she thought in a panic, _I didn't use it this afternoon_. Her breath came in short rasps as she the color drained out of her face. _Damn! _ Trembling, she stripped her clothes off and exchanged them for the lace trimmed white nightgown. After the diaphragm was in, she hid the box in her medicine cabinet and rinsed her hands.

AJ lounged comfortably on the bed when she opened the bathroom door. He stood up and met her as she crossed the room to the bed. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to him roughly and crushed his lips against hers. She closed her eyes, her arms hanging numbly at her sides.

"I love you," he panted between kisses. He nibbled at the side of her neck as Olivia bit her lip and grimaced over his shoulder.


	13. Bourbon Drenched Plans

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 13: "Bourbon Drenched Plans"

AJ was oblivious to the brilliant mesh of colors that stained the sky as the sun dipped behind the horizon. He glared at his reflection as he fastened his cuff links and smoothed his vest before sliding into his suit jacket. The crystal glass of bourbon caught the dying sunlight and sparkled sadly, attracting AJ's attention. Sighing, he raised the tumbler to his lips and swallowed a large gulp. The liquor echoed of wood and spices but still managed to set his mouth aflame. He coughed and smacked his chest as Olivia walked out of the bathroom.

She shook her head and finished tying the straps of her halter dress behind her neck in a loose knot. "For Pete's sake AJ…It's only dinner," she chided as she sprayed _Fleurs du Ciel_ on her neck and wrists. With a final spritz between her breasts, she twirled around once before the mirror. "Gregory's going back to New York tomorrow."

"You sound disappointed," AJ mumbled as he sipped more bourbon, wincing as it burned down his throat. He turned away from his wife and lay on the foot of the bed. The glass dangled dangerously from his fingers as he stared blankly at ceiling.

Often, it's what's unspoken that a person should listen for. Words are just that. Words. Like anything, they can be manipulated and turned into something that they aren't. What is harder to distort is the unconscious reactions of the body. The stiffening of the spine. The way the breath comes out in short rasps. But really, it's the eyes. The eyes never lie. Emotions pass freely, flashing at the mention of a person's name. Had AJ left his gaze on his wife, he may have noticed how close to home his observation was.

Guilt washed over Olivia as her head whipped around. "Dis-, disappointed?" she stammered. Her hand flew up to her throat, anxiously fingering the sun-kissed orange silk of her dress. "I don't know what you mean. I-." The words died on her lips as AJ's head rotated painfully slow in her direction. His dead eyes stared into hers as she continued, "I-, I thought he was interesting."

AJ scoffed and brought the tumbler to his lips, finishing the remainder of it. He sat up and reached for the half-empty bottle on his nightstand. The amber colored liquid splashed against the bottom, sloshing over the side. He licked the droplet off his finger with a satisfied slurp and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm glad you find him so."

Olivia bent down and adjusted the straps on her shoes. She took a steadying breath as she stood back up but AJ already returned to his staring contest with the ceiling. She frowned as he took great pains to balance the crystal glass on his forehead. "I still don't understand this intense dislike you have for him."

The glass started to slide off his forehead and his hand shot up to catch it before it fell. He chuckled as he swallowed another large gulp of bourbon, wiping away the excess that dribbled down his chin. Coughing, he continued to stare at the white ceiling as images of yesterday's meeting came out of it. Gregory sitting across from him in the boardroom, smiling smugly as Armando agreed that monthly meetings would be a good idea. His father shaking Gregory's hand, expressing his happiness that their two companies were finally working together. These images tortured him more than Gilman's yellow wallpaper.

"Are you ready to go downstairs?" Olivia folded her arms across her chest and waited for a response that never came. She glared at him and cleared her throat loudly.

"I'll be down later," he muttered after a moment. "After I finish my drink."

"Honestly," she snapped, "you're worse than a child sometimes." She glanced at him once more before rolling her eyes and leaving the bedroom. Olivia smoothed her hair as she walked down the stairs, tucking loose pieces of hair back into the twist. As she walked across the foyer, she sniffed the air and smiled at the scents that wafted out from the kitchen. "To hell with special diets tonight," she whispered to herself.

She turned into the lounge, but stopped herself in the doorway. Gregory's back was to her and he bent over the large photo on the antique table. She watched as he picked up the frame and stared down at the picture of herself the day she married AJ. The photographer captured her in the instant her grandmother, Peggy, told her she looked beautiful. Like an angel. Being called an angel didn't bother her as much when it was done by anyone but AJ. She walked up behind Gregory and said softly, "She looks very happy."

Gregory jerked around in surprise. He searched the doorway for anyone else that came in with her. "Beautiful too." His eyes met hers and he smiled when the color flushed in her neck and cheeks.

Olivia pried the picture out of his hand and studied it. Her eyes were turned down in embarrassment, a smile whispered on her lips. Her head was slightly turned toward the camera as she had looked for her father. She shook her head and sat the frame back on the table. "I hated that dress." She sat down in the club chair and crossed her legs. "Julianna insisted I wear the dress that she married Armando in," she explained as she looked back at the picture. The dress was weighed down with English lace and a long train. The entire bodice was hand sewn with pearl beads that trailed down in bunches on the skirt and lined the scalloped hem. The high neck trimmed with beads and the lace sleeves caused her to itch and fidget during the ceremony. The headpiece was heavy with more beads and Olivia had flinched when the hairdresser stuck her head with a pin as she set it in her hair.

"You wore it well," Gregory insisted after a few moments silence. She smiled, one that echoed sadness. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. "I enjoyed yesterday afternoon." He watched as she sat back in the chair and he imagined the feeling of her leaning against his chest. Her sad smile shifted into a satisfied smirk and her eyes wrinkled in unspoken laughter.

"I did too," she whispered.

"I'd like to see you again."

Gregory's proposal hung between them, heavy with innuendo and the unspoken lust that was only fanned by yesterday's interlude. The bruise of fervent passion she left on his neck burned through the collar of his shirt. A forceful reminder of her soft lips on his skin.

She broke away and stole a peek at the door. "How?" she whispered.

He leaned closer, his knees brushing hers. Pushing the thought of Armando out of his head, he stroked her knee lightly with his finger. "I'll be coming out here once a month around the 15th for meetings." He placed his hand fully over knee and she gaspsed softly. The way her mouth shaped into an "o" stroked his attention and he shifted uncomfortably as he imagined her full lips pressed against his. Like they were yesterday afternoon when she leaned over him on the bed. Trailing his hand up her thigh, he added, "We can-"

"They're in here Armando."

Julianna's sharp voice jolted Olivia and she pulled her leg out of Gregory's grasp. She looked away as he sat back calmly and smiled at Julianna as she walked into the lounge followed a moment later by Armando.

"Good evening," Armando smiled as he kissed the top of Olivia's head. She smiled up at him as Gregory stood up and offered his seat to Julianna. Julianna shook her head and gestured for the steward who followed them in. He walked over to the glass cart and poured the chilled wine into glasses.

"Where's AJ?"

Olivia accepted the glass from the steward and smiled sweetly at Julianna. "I'm guessing upstairs. He should be down shortly."

"Well, we'll wait for him." Armando sat down on the arm of Olivia's chair. "There's no rush. Tonight is going to be relaxed. Just family," he said as he looked down at Olivia, "and friends," he added, looking at Gregory. "To more evenings like this."

The four glasses clinked together, solidifying the toast. Julianna excused herself to confer with the chef and Armando got Gregory in a discussion about European ventures. When Armando turned away to pour more wine, Gregory felt a gentle friction just above his ankle. He looked down discreetly and saw Olivia's shapely foot rubbing against his lower leg. Without breaking his conversation, he tilted his head and raised his foot to stroke the back of her leg. She smiled at him over the rim of her glass.

And Gregory knew he'd see her next month.


	14. April Flowers

****

NOTE: This chapter is RATED ADULT for sexual content.

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 14: "April Flowers"

The change of climate didn't go unnoticed by Gregory as stood on the balcony of his hotel suite in Sunset Beach. His beloved city back East was still recovering from an unusually long winter, its final snowstorm occurring last month before he flew to California for the first time. The cold wind blew harsh when he returned, whipping around the tall skyscrapers and stinging his face. Yet now, when he had walked the brief span of gray concrete from his cab to the terminal doors at LaGuardia, he felt a change in the air. It was still cool, but there was a warm freshness that clung to the air now. A freshness that only came with the bloom of the spring flowers. It was only a matter of time before the temperature rose out of the low 60's and the park would turn green again.

But in California, everything was already green. _Too_ green. The perpetual warm temperature struck him as an unnatural phenomenon. Gregory had spent his entire life in New York and as such, was used to the dynamics of the seasons. To live in a place where there was only one temperature, one season all year long struck him as…wrong. The humidity of Manhattan in the late summer was excused because the cool promise of autumn loomed around the corner. The heaviness that suffocated the city was replaced when the air turned crisp and the smell of pine and burning wood perfumed the cool. All was forgiven when the leaves in Central Park turned brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow and then fell lazily to the ground. In California though, there was no escape. It was omnipresent.

To be in California, to be in Sunset Beach at this time conflicted Gregory as he considered the dual purpose it served. On the one hand, he had a responsibility to the company that his grandfather founded and that his father now ran. With that came the responsibility to Armando Deschanel and the plea he had whispered over lunch a month ago. He bit his cheek as the thought of monthly meetings with Armando's heir apparent, his son AJ. Young Deschanel was a person he had disliked since they first met as children. He was a sniveling and whiny child and continued in that fashion as an adult. Whatever brains he apparently had clearly came from his father.

But on the other hand, he had a second responsibility, one of a far more personal nature. And by whichever hand of the cruel fates had arranged it, it again involved AJ. Or rather, his wife.

Gregory certainly had no difficulties finding the company of ladies. It was a situation that eternally plagued his mother, Eleanor, who wanted nothing more than to see her youngest child settled down with a family of his own. To her displeasure, he seemed rather content with the life of a bachelor, keeping his own apartment in the city while his two married older brothers resided on Long Island near their parent's home with their own families. With that, he also seemed rather content to have a never-ending string of disposable girlfriends that he kept at arms length emotionally while crushing to him sexually. He was quite used to seeking out women he desired, regardless of whether or not they were involved in other relationships. Olivia Deschanel no different in that respect. He saw her and wanted her. Yet when he got her, she left him wanting more.

She attracted his eye and stirred something deep within him. Something deeply animalistic and born out of pure infatuation. As Gregory sat on the balcony now, his feet propped lazily on the top of the railing, he was aroused by the thought of her. Olivia had that unusual combination of dark hair and blue eyes that intrigued him. That only enticed the burning rage of desire that she left him with last month. He shivered as he recalled the way her hands felt on his back, trailing over his hot skin as she crushed her lips to his.

Gregory glanced down at his watch. 1:54 p.m. He leaned back in his chair and smiled. Six minutes. He had already waited a month. Six minutes wouldn't kill him.

* * *

The cool stone of the ledge on the bar barely registered in Olivia's mind as she rested her bare arms on it. She slid up onto the leather cushioned bar stool and rested against the black wood back. Her small woven purse lay to her right as she anxiously tapped her fingernails on the bar's surface. 

The bartender shook his head knowingly and waited in front of her. When she didn't acknowledge him, he cleared his throat expectantly.

"Oh," she gasped. Her eyes rolled in thought as her fingernails clicked faster. "Irish Headlock, please." The bartender nodded and turned away.

When she had agreed to see Gregory Richards again, she had made that decision on a series of emotions born on the high of the incredible sex they shared and her underlying disgust with her husband. As she sat across from him in Armando's lounge a month ago, Gregory's brown eyes were still hard with the unbridled lust from the day before. She knew he wanted her. Were it not for the presence of her in-laws, she was quite sure that he would have had no problem clawing her dress off and pounding into her until she screamed his name into the night.

The bartender returned with the shot glass layered with liquor, placing it in front of her on top of a small square napkin. She took a crisp ten-dollar bill out of her purse and slid it across the bar. "Keep the change," she murmured as she picked up the small glass. The neat layers of brandy, amaretto, Irish whisky, and Irish cream mocked the uncertainty that churned within her. While Olivia was sure that Gregory had wanted her a month ago and though she wanted him still, she wasn't entirely sure if his desire survived the month long separation.

Olivia felt somewhat confidant that it had, otherwise why would he have suggested seeing one and other again? Her nerves steadied temporarily until she considered that his offer was a just a leftover from the physical act they shared. She sighed in disgust and threw her head back, swallowing the one-ounce shot. _Other twenty-two year olds don't have this problem_, she grumbled to herself as she returned the now empty shot glass to the clean cradle that was the napkin. _Other twenty-two year olds aren't tied down to a marriage and a husband that they resent_.

"Anything else, doll?" The bartender looked across at Olivia. Of the few people that had come in since the bar opened at ten a.m., no one had looked as if they needed a drink more than she did.

Olivia shook her head and glanced down at her watch. 1:50 p.m. Ten minutes. The walk across the lobby to the elevator would take no more than forty-five seconds. The ride up to his hotel room would take a maximum of two minutes. She took a deep breath and let the steadying effect of the alcohol wash over her. Her eyes closed and she concentrated on the repetitive feeling of her breath rushing in and out of her body.

The bartender took back the empty shot glass and napkin, tucking them into the wash bin underneath the counter before running a damp cloth over the stone. "You know," he said after a moment, "whatever it is…just do it." Olivia's eyes opened slowly and she folded her hands in front of her. He nodded at her as he ran a dry cloth over the counter and tossed it over his shoulder. "You may be nervous but just go for it."

She smiled weakly as the bartender moved a few feet down the bar to another patron. The delicate arms of her watch now read two minutes later. She pushed herself away from the bar and grabbed her purse as she stood up. Turning to the lobby, she took another deep breath as she strode with a confidence she didn't quite feel out of the bar and across the lobby. Rather than wait for the elevator and chance an encounter with someone she knew, she walked past it and pushed open the door to the stairwell.

With any luck, the trip up to the fifth floor would work off any nervousness that still dampened her spirit. For she was excited to see Gregory. When she had been with him last month, he had managed to set every one of her senses on fire. His touch had stayed on her body for days afterwards, his fingers trailing down her thigh. The spiked sound his breathing as he climaxed haunted her waking moments and the nights when it was AJ she should have heard. As she turned onto the stairs between the third and fourth floors, she chased the thought of AJ from her mind. She wouldn't allow him to taint the only time she really felt alive in the past two years, even if he was only there in her mind.

Olivia quickened her pace as she walked up the remaining stairs and paused to catch her breath before turning the handle on the stairwell door. The hallway was chilly as cold air rushed out of the air conditioning vents and dimly lit from the sconces alternately spaced on the walls. She walked slowly down the hall, her sandals clicking softly as they passed over the multi-toned tile. She stopped in front of Gregory's door and squeezed her eyes shut as she knocked quickly. _Oh please_, she thought, _if I'm going to be rejected, let it be quick and not too embarrassing for either of us_. Olivia forced her eyes open as she heard the lock turn and door knob squeak.

Gregory opened the door and forcefully pulled her inside the room. She stumbled against him as he kicked the door shut and pushed her back against the door. He pressed against her, resting his hands on either side of her head and staring deep into her eyes. "Hello," he whispered, his lips no more than two inches away from hers.

She licked her lips as relief flooded into her. His eyes still held the same lust that they did when she last saw him. She smiled demurely and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Hello to you." She rested her hands on his chest and felt the pounding of his heart beneath his ribcage.

Gregory's head tilted a fraction and caught her lips as she pulled back. He tasted the rich sweetness of the liquor on them and her tongue as he reacquainted himself with her mouth. "Not so fast," he whispered as she pulled him closer. He captured her face within his hands, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes. "I just want to look at you." He watched as her eyes wrinkled in confusion, but she obliged his request. Her lips quivered as she took a breath. If possible, those damn blue eyes of hers seemed even bluer than he remembered.

She fidgeted as his strong gaze continued to move over her face, but never left it. "So, what do I get for just standing here and indulging you?"

He pulled her closer, one hand cupping her rear as the other traveled up to her chest. "Whatever you want," he whispered in her ear.

"The only thing," Olivia gasped as his hand ripped open her shirt and snaked around to unclasp her bra, "I want right now is _you_." His hand returned to the front to cup her breast and he smiled when her breathing became shallow.

"It's a good thing I'm availab-" Gregory cut off as she silenced him with her mouth. He pulled her away from the door and further into his embrace as he backed into the hotel suite.

Olivia followed Gregory further into the hotel room, without breaking the kiss. His lips were firm against hers as his tongue slipped in between them to caress the inside of her cheek and her own tongue. His hands gave up on pulling open the rest of the buttons on her shirt as he ripped the two halves apart and forced the shirt off her shoulders. Kissing his way over the bone of her jaw, his mouth eventually found a sensitive spot just below her ear lobe. Her low moan rang out as his lips and teeth alternately teased the area. His hands were intent on divesting her of the burgundy bra that hung open.

So focused was he on stripping her and drinking in as much of her as he could that he backed them into the small end table. The lamp crashed into the floor and there was a pop as the light bulb shattered underneath the billowy lampshade. He froze and pulled away from her neck as her head fell back with laughter.

Gregory turned back to Olivia as her fingers pulled his shirt up and off his body. "We're a sight," she laughed. "Standing here in various states of undress." Her back shuddered with laughter beneath his hands as they collapsed onto the couch in the sitting room. Kneeling next to him, she pulled the shirt off his body and tossed it behind her before surrendering her arms so he could remove her bra. With nothing between them, she pressed herself back against him, her smooth chest against his rough one. He pulled her hair gently, her head falling back as his tongue trailed down the curve of her neck to the base of her throat and further still to her breast. Olivia nearly jumped away from him as his tongue followed the curve of her breast up from the valley of her chest and she felt his legs tighten around her waist.

One hand fell from her hair to start bunching up the peasant skirt she wore. He pulled his lips away from her breast long enough to curse the length of material. Her hands fell down from his shoulder and she gathered the skirt to one side as he pulled her deeper into his lap. She sighed as she pulled down the zipper and freed him from the confines of his pants. As he thrust up, she ground down hard on him, pulling him in to her. His grunt echoed in her ears as she leaned up and continued to bring him deeper. Again and again, she writhed on top of him and she grabbed his face within her hands, forcing her lips to his and inviting him into her mouth. And when he lost himself in her, his cry of orgasm was in her mouth.

Olivia broke away, wiping a smudge of her lipstick off his lips with her thumb. She smiled and leaned against his heaving chest, her head on his shoulder. The heavy breathing was the only sound in the room as they sat together while their bodies recouped. After a few moments, when Olivia's breathing became less labored, she started to pull away and slide off him.

Gregory's arms tightened around her back and he kissed the side of her head. "Stay," he whispered.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. His brown eyes were glazed over with fulfillment and a softness that came with afterglow. She nodded as she ran her fingers through his hair that was damp with sweat. "For how long?"

"As long as you want."


	15. Aurae

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 15: "Aurae"

Jim Morrison once said, "A friend is someone who gives you the total freedom to be yourself." While Olivia wasn't a huge fan of his music, she was a fan of the quote because it was true of her and Bette. With Bette, nothing was fake. You were yourself. Her infectious humor spread to everyone that she was in contact with and it was impossible to be sad around her. Her cheery disposition and her blunt humor made her stand alone and living with the Deschanel's made her Olivia's saving grace.

Though her mouth always moved a mile a minute and she knew more about people than they cared for, Bette was a wonderful confidante. Olivia could only bring herself to confess the secret about the sham that was her marriage because she knew Bette would never judge her. Sharing a secret removed the heavy weight that clung to a person's soul and made it easier to live with. Friends were not only useful for relieving the stress that came with secrets. When there was good and exciting news to share, a friend rejoiced in it with you. The excitement threatened to bubble out the way a child hurried out of their warm bed on Christmas morning.

Olivia's sandals slapped on the ground as she walked across the cobblestone street and contemplated when the best time would be to tell Bette about Gregory. She stepped onto the sidewalk and walked the few feet over to the outdoor café. "Bette!" she called out with a wave as she turned the wrought iron fence into the patio.

"Hiya Toots!"

Olivia bent down and kissed Bette's cheek before sitting across from her. "How are you?" she asked as she leaned against the back of the wicker chair. She glanced up from the menu and gasped. "What the _hell_ are you wearing?"

Bette shrugged and glanced down at her woven Baja pullover. She tucked her hands inside the large belly pocket and said, "Rif made it for me."

"Rif? That's a name?"

"It is," Bette chuckled, "and he's _quite_ the guy, if you get my drift."

"Uh huh. Where did you meet _Rif_?"

"Stop saying his name like that." Bette grinned and sipped her iced tea. "I met him at the farmer's market. He was selling vegetables and I asked him if he'd come over and till my garden." Olivia choked on her water and turned away as she coughed into her hand. "So," she said over Olivia's fit, "we had dinner later that night."

"Wh-, What were you doing at the farmer's market? You don't cook." Bette's eyes grew wide as she stared at Olivia intently over the rim of her glass. Olivia nodded knowingly and she smirked. "You were there with what's-his-name. The chef…The one you're dating."

"Was," Bette stressed as her blue eyes shone with laughter. "Was dating. Rif and I are an item now."

"Well," Olivia sighed as she picked back up the menu. She stared down at it in silence, ignoring Bette's teasing smile. "So, what does this Rif do?"

"He, uh, lives in that old hippie co-op thirty minutes east of Sunse-" Bette trailed off as Olivia's laughter burst forth and she covered her mouth with her menu. "Now why are you laughing?"

"I'm-, I'm sorry," Olivia laughed. "He's a hippie?" She dropped the menu onto the table where it clattered against the plates. "How old is he?"

"In his forties. His _late_ ones."

Olivia leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "God, Bette. An aging hippie? Next you're going to tell me he swears by hemp and that vegetables aren't the only thing he grows." She grinned and waited patiently for Bette to answer.

"When you say it like that…" Bette sniffed.

"Oh darling, I'm sorry." Olivia reached out and squeezed Bette's hand. "You know I'm just teasing."

"Please, I deserve it for all the times I've harassed you since we've known each other." Bette turned around to get the servers attention. "I'm starved. Rif has me on a diet of tofu and brown rice. What I wouldn't do for a steak."

"Did you offer?" Olivia deadpanned.

"Believe me, he and I don't have any problems in that area."

It was over a lunch of cheeseburgers and greasy French fries that Bette first noticed the change in Olivia. Her whole demeanor seemed radically different from the way she usually appeared. A brilliant smile that wouldn't fade graced her face, eradicating the usual lines of sadness. More subtle was the glow of her cheeks and the radiance in her eyes. This was the happiest that Bette had ever seen her friend. And that made her wonder…

"So I've told you all about Rif and our relationship. What about yours?"

Olivia looked up slowly from her plate of French fries and eyed Bette. "Whatever do you mean?"

Bette stabbed a fry with her fork and dipped it in the little ceramic cup of brown gravy. "I mean, things must be going better with you and AJ."

"Why do you say that?"

"For starters," Bette said as she waved her fork thoughtfully, "this is the most I've seen you smile in months. And you have this whole…"

"This whole what?" Olivia asked.

"This whole aura of joy surrounding you."

"Aura? Is that a word you got from Rif?"

"Don't change the subject," Bette chastised. "We're talking about you now."

"So you say." Olivia picked up her glass of sparkling water and sipped it. As she put the tall glass down, Bette watched as the ghost of a smile danced on her lips.

"Olivia," she said sweetly with a small chuckle, "what's going on?"

"Nothing," she said bashfully.

The refusal of her blue eyes to meet Bette's eyes only fueled the curiosity that swam in her head. Bette sat back and folded her arms across her chest. She continued to stare at Olivia until she slowly raised her eyes.

"I've taken a lover," she whispered proudly.

Bette squealed and clasped her hands as she leaned in. "Oh honey…I'm proud of you. It's about time you did something for yourself." She reached over and grabbed Olivia's hand, ignoring the sparkle of diamonds on her ring finger. "Who?"

Olivia cleared her throat and tilted her head in towards Bette's. "Do you remember the party Armando and Julianna threw about two months ago?" Her red-blond hair shook with the movements of her head. "Well, that's where I met him."

Smiling broadly, Bette squeezed Olivia's hand. "So tell me about him. What's he like? What's his name?"

"Well, to start, he's everything that AJ isn't. Exciting, daring, and absolutely gorgeous. And, when he looks at me…"

"What?"

Olivia's eyes glazed over and her lips turned into a smile, one that echoed a secret. "He makes me feel like I'm the only person who matters."

"You do matter," Bette stressed. She rubbed Olivia's hand and looked back up at her. "Do I know this dreamboat?"

"Not really. You saw him at the party though." Bette's blue eyes narrowed in confusion and Olivia clarified, "It's Gregory. Gregory Richards."

"Honey, you sure can pick 'em." Olivia blushed and tucked her hands in her lap. "So, mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Bette," she scoffed, "there's nothing about me that you don't know. What is it?"

"You are at least using something, aren't you?"

"I did the second time," she mumbled.

"Uh huh. What happened the first time?"

"The, um, heat of the moment?" Olivia sighed and glanced away for a moment. "Bette, I use a diaphragm with AJ because I couldn't bear to bring a child into our relationship." Turning back to Bette, she continued, "As for Gregory and I, well, we just…we just are. There's no commitment, just a monthly date in his hotel room."

"And you're fine with that?"

"I am. I mean, I barely know the man. But I like the little I do know. And, he makes me feel good."

Bette nodded. "And that's what counts, isn't it?" She smiled and reached for the dessert menu. "I don't know about you, but I say this calls for chocolate. What do you say we split the layer cake and call it a day?"

"Sounds delicious," Olivia grinned.


	16. Some Other Beginning's End

****

NOTE: The title of this chapter was inspired by the song "Closing Time" by Semisonic and can be found on their cd "Feeling Strangely Fine".

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 16: "Some Other Beginning's End"

The two women sat in the overstuffed leather chairs facing one and other in silence. Olivia sighed softly and crossed her leg, shifting her body into the shaft of afternoon sunlight. The beams of warm gold helped to dull the ice that invariably chilled any room whose doorway was darkened by Julianna Deschanel.

Julianna flicked a nonexistent piece of fluff off her dark brown pants. The soft material of the pants tickled her palm as she rubbed it distractedly over the top of her thigh. She fisted her hand before splaying it in front of her. Her mouth dipped into a frown as the skin of her hand wrinkled and the blue veins became more apparent.

The deep chime of the grandfather clock in the foyer rang out, echoing over the first floor as the vibrations settled over the pregnant quiet. The honey colored brandy in Julianna's crystal glass rippled slightly with the chimes. As the sixth and final chime rang out, she sighed loudly and looked across the room at Olivia. "Well, they should be home any moment now."

Olivia looked up as she tapped her finger gently against the tarnished bolts that lined the arm. The tiny knobs were cool beneath the tips of her finger and left them with the acrid scent of metal. "AJ sounded excited when he called," she forced herself to say.

"Did he? _I_ didn't get to speak with him." Julianna's tone dripped with unspoken accusation as she raised the wide rimmed sniffer to her mouth.

"He was talking so fast, I barely spoke to him. All he said was that we were going to the club to celebrate."

"I find it hard to believe that AJ didn't say _what_ we were celebrating."

Olivia tilted her head and stared back at her mother-in-law. "Believe it," she snapped. The stilted conversation died off when Julianna rose to pour herself more brandy. Olivia shook her head and smoothed the skirt of her wrap dress. The sheen of the emerald green silk reminded her of Gregory's tie. She had noticed it hanging from the handle of the bathroom door. The tie was a deep shade of blue with thin white pin stripes running diagonally across it.

He chuckled as she got up from the bed, her long hair swinging slightly as she picked up the tie and turned around. "If you like it that much, you can keep it," he advised as she tied it loosely around her neck. "I don't like it."

"You don't mean that," she said as she swung it teasingly and climbed back into the bed.

Gregory sat up and put his hands on her bare hips, pulling her to him. "I never say anything I don't mean." He admired the way the tie fell between her breasts and down to her belly button.

"If you don't like it, why did you buy it?" Olivia undid the tie and lassoed it around his neck.

His mouth brushed hers as he whispered, "I didn't. It was a Christmas gift from my ten year old niece." The silk of the tie was a gentle friction on the back of his neck as she tugged on the ends alternately. He wrapped his hands around her neck in retaliation and drew her closer. As his lips caressed hers, she pulled the tie off his neck and replaced it with her own hands before trailing her fingers lightly through his thick hair. "It looks better on you anyway."

She laughed as his lips moved down the neck he was becoming fond of and closed her eyes. "And here I thought you liked me with my clothes off."

He lifted his mouth away from the skin of her shoulder and pushed her gently back onto the pillow. "I do," he grinned, "but it's quite the turn on when you wear mine." His tongue darted out to the hollow of her neck and a relaxed sigh rolled off Olivia's lips.

Olivia bit back a grin as she thought of the tie in its new home, neatly folded and nestled among her lingerie. He had pressed it into her hand as she was leaving and whispered in her ear, "Until May." The month had dragged by with an unusual slowness that frustrated her to no end. She and Bette celebrated the arrival of May by going to an early _Cinco de Mayo_ party on the beach. However, May was finally here and in five days, so would Gregory.

Julianna sat back down in the armchair, gently swirling the brandy around the glass. Her dark eyebrows arched questioningly when she looked up to see a broad smile flash across Olivia's face. "AJ did tell you what the news is, didn't he?" she said in a shrill voice. "I knew it!"

On the other side of the room, Olivia jumped and she focused her attention on Julianna. "Oh for the love of-…He didn't." She rolled her eyes and stood up. "But if it makes you feel better, you can be the first person he talks to when he walks through the door."

Julianna's response was lost as the closing of the front door and an excited voice in the foyer became evident. She stood up and turned to the arched doorway as the voices grew louder. A moment later, AJ burst through the doorway, grinning from ear to ear.

"Maman!" he exclaimed. He pulled Julianna into a tight embrace and kissed her cheek loudly. AJ smiled quickly before reaching for Olivia and throwing his arms around her. "Angel, I have _incredible_ news."

Olivia ducked out of the aim of his lips and forced a happy expression when she saw Armando over his shoulder. The older man smiled tiredly and sat down heavily in Julianna's vacant chair. He coughed slightly into this handkerchief and accepted a glass of ice water from Therese.

"Do tell us the news, darling," Julianna interrupted. She stood behind Armando and placed her hand on his shoulder. She watched as AJ wrapped his arm around Olivia's waist and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Today," he began grandly, "has been the best day of my life, second only of course to the day I married the love of my life." He kissed Olivia's cheek softly and turned back to his mother. "Today all of my dreams have come true. Father instructed the Board of Trustees to vote on my becoming President and CEO of _Deschanel Shipping_." He paused dramatically and concluded, "And it's unanimous. I'll be leading the company into the 1980's."

Julianna clapped her hands in delight and rushed around to him. "Oh…Oh, this is wonderful news! Just wonderful." She squeezed him tighter and whispered, "This is your destiny." She cupped his cheek affectionately and glanced back at Armando, who sat quietly in the armchair. "Destiny."

Therese cleared her throat discreetly from the doorway. "The country club called to confirm your dinner reservations in half an hour."

"Thank you, Therese." AJ turned back to the group. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to freshen up and change suits." He squeezed Olivia's arm and kissed her cheek again. "I'll be down shortly."

"I'll help you pick out a suit, dear," Julianna called as she followed AJ out of the room. "You should wear your navy blue one because-"

Olivia narrowed her eyes and sighed pitifully. She kneeled in front of Armando and smiled at him. "This is a big decision," she said softly.

Armando nodded slowly and put his hand on her cheek. "All good things must end, ma chere." She nodded and passed him his water when he started to cough again. "I'll tell you another thing that could end: this cough."

"You have had it for awhile," Olivia conceded. "Maybe the decision to step aside is for the best." She smiled as Armando shrugged his shoulders. "You'll have more time to rest now."

"I'll have nothing to do but rest. I'll have all the time in the world." Armando sighed in disgust. "I'm turning into my father. He was miserable when he was this age."

"There's nothing miserable about spending time with the family that loves you." Olivia stood up and held out her hand. "Come on, old man…I'll buy you a drink."

Armando grinned and allowed Olivia to pull him up from the deep chair. "That is the best offer I've had in weeks."


	17. Holbrook & Frances

**_NOTE: This chapter is RATED ADULT for sexual content. _**

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 17: "Holbrook and Frances"

The fan spun lazily overhead, a gentle whooshing followed each rotation as a cool breeze stirred the quiet stillness of the hotel room. Gregory rolled to his side and pulled the sheet down gently to her hips. Olivia shivered as the air hit her skin and Gregory watched the small goose bumps rise from her flesh.

"Cold?" he asked softly as his eyes were drawn to that vast expanse of skin that was her smooth stomach. He trailed his finger lightly over the chilled skin and around her belly button. She squirmed and gasped, causing his eyes to move back to her face.

"Ticklish," she explained in the barest of whispers.

"Is that so?" He smirked wickedly before lowering his head to her stomach and allowed his lips to tease her skin that smelled faintly of irises. His mouth warmed her skin as his lips moved over it hungrily. She closed her eyes and sighed as her hips rose to meet him. Gregory pulled back and smiled knowingly at her. His fingers replaced his mouth as they traced lazy designs on her stomach and up to her chest. "Feeling warmer?"

"Too warm," Olivia corrected as she cupped the back of his head and ran her fingers through his dark brown hair. She drew his head to hers and smiled briefly before kissing his mouth. "My lips are cold though."

He chuckled and pressed himself closer to her as his mouth moved over her face and back to her lips. His fingers found their way up to the smooth skin of her shoulders and he grabbed them as she pulled him deeper into her mouth. He wedged his leg in between hers and spread them gently as he climbed in between them. Her nails trailed fire up his back as he bent her one leg back and her other one wrapped around him. Looking into her eyes, he pushed into her inviting warmth.

Olivia closed her eyes as he turned his head into her neck. His warm breath caressing her jaw matched the warmth shooting up from her hips. Before, when she first arrived, there was desperation in the way he grabbed at her and tore her clothes from her body. The hard sex against the door partially satisfied the aching need that had built up in the month they had been apart. As Gregory carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed, he kissed her cheek and apologized. All memories of earlier was erased in the way his fingers wove with hers and his other hand turned her face to him. His brown eyes glinted as his breathing increased.

"Come with me," he panted and she pushed her leg higher up his waist. The deeper he reached, the more uneven her breathing became until it caught in her throat. Her legs tightened around him and she felt him squeeze her hand a moment later. Looking down at her, Gregory placed the softest of kisses on her lips before rolling off her to his side. He wrapped his arm across her heaving chest and kissed her ear. "You know," he whispered, "we've been sharing a bed for three months and I don't even know your middle name."

Olivia smiled coyly and met his eyes. "It's Frances."

"Olivia Frances," he repeated softly as he brushed a lock of hair off her neck and kissed the exposed area.

"What about you?" she asked. His lips were like feathers as they brushed over her skin as he moved from the base up to her jawbone.

Gregory looked up briefly. "What?" he mumbled as his lips continued to trail across her jaw and over her chin before resting on her lips.

She put her hands on his cheeks and pushed him away gently. "_Your_ middle name. What is it?" His mumbled reply was unintelligible and she poked him teasingly. "Tell me," she insisted. "Please?"

"Holbrook." His cheeks flushed slightly as he repeated in a clearer voice, "Gregory Holbrook Richards."

Olivia pursed her lips and stifled her amused grin. "Oh, now your embarrassed," she noted as she climbed on top of him, her legs falling in between his as he wrapped them around her calves. "Why? I like it."

He folded his hands over the small of her back as her fingers ran through his hair. The gentle pressure of her elbows digging into his shoulders was a pleasant sensation only heightened by her faint breath hitting his chin. "It's my mother's maiden name."

"Well," she whispered as she kissed his chin, "it's befitting for someone of your stature."

"My stature?" he chuckled as he hugged her closer to him.

"Mm hmm." She nodded before silencing him with a kiss. "Your stature." She kissed the corner of his mouth and explained, "Powerful." Another kiss, this time on his upper lip. "Intelligent." Kiss. "Controlled-"

"Not when I'm around you."

"-And terribly exciting."

"Now I'm terrible?"

Olivia shook her head and clucked her tongue. "You know what I mean."

"I know that I know very little about you."

She rolled off Gregory and onto her side, her leg still draped over his. "What do you want to know?" she asked as tucked her arms under her head.

Gregory turned on his side and stared into her eyes. "Everything."

Her laughter was a delightful mix of embarrassment and genuine amusement. "Where shall I start?" she giggled as his foot stroked hers.

"Are you really fluent in five languages?"

She nodded and ticked them off one-by-one on her hand. "English. French. Italian. Russian. Greek."

His grin matched her accomplished smile. "Add in the little Spanish and German I know and we'd storm Europe." Her smile turned wistful as she reached out and fingered the rough hair of his chest. She felt it rumble when he said, "Your turn. Ask me anything."

Olivia bit her lip and she glanced away in thought. "Why," she asked after a moment, "aren't you married?" She felt the way his hand froze on her back and she quickly continued, "A good looking man like you can't lack for girlfriends."

Gregory's hand rested on her hip and he looked back up at her. "I don't." Her blue eyes watched him patiently and he felt them drawing the truth out of him. "I just haven't met a woman who didn't irritate the hell out of me five minutes after we were introduced," he trailed off into silence for several moments before adding, "until recently."


	18. Not Happiness

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 18: "Not Happiness"

Milky white statues of cats with bejeweled eyes watched silently as the guests mingled in groups. The hushed conversations echoed off the stone floor and throughout the Egyptian wing of the _Metropolitan Museum of Art_. Eleanor Richards tucked a piece of blond hair behind her ear and smiled in thanks as her son passed her a glass of champagne.

"Is Gregory here yet?" Max asked as he shook off the touch of his wife, Lorraine. She frowned and glanced away.

Eleanor eyed her eldest son before nodding and gesturing with her glass across the room. "He keeps getting stuck in conversation."

The skirt of Lorraine's teal and navy blue print dress swished as she stood next to Eleanor. "This one looks like she's going to be fun." She smirked at her mother-in-law as she appraised Gregory's date. Max sent a glare to silence his wife as Gregory and his date finally made their way to them. "Lots," she muttered.

"Gregory, sweetheart." Eleanor pulled Gregory to her and kissed his cheek. She smiled affectionately as he blushed slightly and whispered a greeting in her ear. Max shook his younger brother's hand firmly as Lorraine murmured hello.

The woman with dark blonde hair standing next to Gregory cleared her throat softly and tugged on the tail of tuxedo jacket. He looked back at her and smiled apologetically. "Excuse me. Mother, you remember Emme Hartford. Emme, this is my brother, Max, and his wife, Lorraine."

"Of course! Sam and Sheila's daughter," Eleanor said warmly. "It's been ages since we've seen them."

Emme tucked her hand into the crook of Gregory's arm and nodded. "They've become quite used to life in Greenwich," she explained.

"How long have you known Gregory?" Lorraine asked with a trace of bitter amusement as Gregory untangled his arm from hers.

Gregory took a glass of champagne off a passing tray and glared at his sister-in-law over the rim. "Ages," he answered dryly.

The dry tone of Gregory's response silenced the small group and Emme fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Well," Eleanor said to cover the pause, "William won't be attending because Madeline isn't feeling well. But I think they'll be coming out to dinner this weekend. Gregory, do you think you might manage to pencil that in to your busy schedule?"

"Give him a break Mother. He's been flying out to California once a month for the past few months." Max's interruption dripped with envy as he thought of the carefree life his younger and single brother led. The hand on his upper arm reminded him that he'd brought the same woman to these types of events for the past fourteen years while a new one attended with Gregory each time. And of the four whiny children that waited at home for him at the end of the day.

"I'll be sure to drive out," Gregory insisted. "I don't have to be back in California for another week or two."

Max pulled Gregory away from the group as Eleanor pressed Emme for news of her parents. "So, how is meeting with AJ working out? I gotta say, I was a little shocked you agreed to monthly meetings with him. What you should've done-"

"The meetings were per the request of Armando Deschanel. I could hardly refuse him," Gregory muttered as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "And, I'm not leaving our investment solely in the hands of AJ. Armando may trust him enough to turn over everything to him, but I want to make sure our money isn't squandered on foolish investments." _Never mind that I've got my own reasons for flying to the coast_, he added silently.

Max shrugged. "It's your deal." He glanced back at Emme and the tight gown she managed to squeeze herself into. The swell of her breasts spilled over the top of the beaded dress and he gazed longingly as her full pink lips closed around the rim of her champagne flute.

Gregory rolled his eyes at Max's leer and glanced down at his watch to see if it was too early to duck out.

It was though too early, even by his own standards. He excused himself from his brother and headed for the bar. As he stared down at his whisky sour, he felt someone touch his arm.

"She's…_interesting_," Eleanor said tightly.

Gregory chuckled, the noise echoing in his tumbler as he raised it to his mouth. "Is that what we're calling 'irritating and idiotic' now?"

"They all start with 'I' after all." Eleanor frowned as the waiter replaced Gregory's empty glass with a full one. She glanced back where Maxwell now stood chatting with Emme and shook her head. _That girl is a lost cause_, she thought to herself. "Why can't you find a nice girl?"

The glass hit the bar with an angry clink as Gregory turned to face his mother. "Not tonight Mother."

"Oh sweetheart." She followed him across the gallery, in the opposite direction of the throng of people. "I don't mean to upset you. But-"

"I know." Gregory turned back to face her at the doorway to the _Tomb of Perneb_. "Honestly Mother, I understand. Really, I do," he insisted as he saw Eleanor prepare to interrupt. "When I find a 'nice' girl, you'll be the first to know."

"I doubt that," Eleanor said softly as she brushed a lock of hair off her son's forehead. "You've always kept things to yourself. Even as a little boy. Your father and I never even knew you were president of the student council until we saw your yearbook." She smiled wistfully as Gregory took her arm and led her inside the tomb. The ancient paintings on the stone walls were barely visible in the flickering torch light as they made their way around the chamber.

Gregory let go of his mother's arm as she moved closer to the stone wall to inspect the wall markings. "Must've been rather difficult."

Eleanor turned around in surprise. "Difficult? Not at all. You're just so different from your brothers. Not that any of you boys are alike." She turned back to the wall but continued, "But Max and William were always so eager to talk about their accomplishments. We had to drag it out of you." She glanced back at Gregory to catch his nonchalant shrug. "Is it because you were always more successful than your brothers?" His silence was a sufficient answer for her. Linking arms with Gregory again, they walked back out of the tomb, blinking as their eyes readjusted. "I want you happy."

_Olivia_. "What if I told you I was?"

"Then I'd call you a liar."

"There you are!" Emme cooed. "I was wondering were you got to."

Eleanor watched silently as Gregory avoided taking Emme's outstretched hand and instead shook his father's hand.

"Harry Zimmermann cornered you, huh?" he asked.

Maxwell nodded and wrapped his arm around Eleanor's waist. "Zimm's a good friend, but the man can certainly get you involved in the most long winded discussions." He smiled at Emme and continued, "Gregory, I didn't know that you were seeing Sam Hartford's little girl."

Emme smiled proudly as Gregory interjected, "We aren't seeing one and other." He ignored the gasp of disappointment and made a note to remind Ms. Hartford that one function does not a relationship make.

Eleanor felt Maxwell's grip tighten around her waist and she made a show of looking down at her watch. "These receptions can be so tiring, don't you agree Emme?" The young woman nodded curtly and glanced away.

"Excuse me," Emme sniffed. She pecked Gregory's cheek and whispered in his ear, "I'll be back in just a moment." She smiled sweetly at his parents before turning on her heel.

"Scared off another one?" Maxwell asked when Emme was out of earshot.

Gregory shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."

"A match with a Hartford would be fruitful."

"Maxwell," Eleanor said warningly.

Gregory smirked and leaned into his father. "You may have bullied Max and William into marrying women with _fruitful _business connections, but it won't work with me." He kissed Eleanor's cheek. "Mother, I'll be out this weekend for dinner." He glanced at his father and shook his hand briefly. "Father. Enjoy the rest of the evening."

Striding out of the Egyptian gallery, Gregory walked straight into Emme's path.

"Gregory, I told you I'd be right back. I just went to the ladies roo-"

"We're leaving," he growled as he dragged her across the Great Hall. The spotlights illuminating the columns glowed as they walked out the main doors and down the cement stairs. The cacophony of blaring horns and humming engines that rang out from 5th Avenue was separated by a line of waiting chauffeured cars. Gregory saw his driver leaning against the black sedan and headed for him.

"But why?" Emme protested. She struggled to catch up with Gregory after he realized halfway down the stairs that he was holding onto her hand and abruptly dropped it. The driver sprang into action and held open the door for them.

"Royce, we'll go to Ms. Hartford's building on Park Avenue," Gregory instructed before the back door was closed.

"My home?"

Gregory eyed Emme out of the corner of his eye before turning to watch the buildings fly by as Royce eased the car into the nighttime traffic. "Yes."

Emme sat back with a small smile. The lingerie she laid out on her lace-shrouded bed before leaving would certainly come into play tonight. If what she had heard about Gregory Richards was true, she wouldn't be wearing them that long. She shivered in anticipation and slid closer to Gregory, stroking his thigh.

He felt her hand snake up his leg and he bit back the urge to smack her hand away. Her fingers trailed repetitively up and down his leg in what she thought were a seductive motion. Olivia's touch managed to bring him to the brink. He shifted uncomfortably and pushed Emme's hand away. She wasn't what he wanted. Her touch wasn't what he craved. She wasn't what he dreamed about. _Olivia_.

Emme leaned forward and blew a soft stream of air into Gregory's ear. He flinched and grabbed her hand off his leg.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She frowned and pulled her hand out of his grasp. "Just giving you a preview of what's to come later."

With Olivia, no words were needed. Gregory knew what she wanted almost as clearly as she knew what he wanted. Her eyes, he learned, told him what to do and where his fingers should find themselves. Those blue eyes were the gateway to everything about Olivia.

Gregory shook his head as Royce slowed to the car to a stop in front of her building. The door attendant eagerly pulled it open and nodded as Gregory stepped out. Emme followed a step behind and held out her arm for Gregory.

He stared down at her hand and shook his head. "You misunderstood. I'm not coming up. I never intended to do anything but take you home."

Emme smiled patiently and pressed her body against Gregory's. The wind blew off the street, stirring the tails of his jacket and the skirt of her dress. "You don't have to play hard to get, Gregory. I'm ready, willing, and _able_." She moved in for his lips, but he grabbed her arms and pushed her away.

"_Good night_, Emme." The look of shock on her face gave him a perverse pleasure as he climbed back into the sedan. "Leave now, Royce…before she causes a scene."

The short car ride and elevator trip to his corner apartment was cloaked in silence. Gregory pushed open the heavy wooden door and locked it shut behind him. The darkness enveloped him as he walked through the foyer and down the three shallow steps into the sunken living room. Central Park eighteen floors below him was a black sea and the orange shine from the streetlights resembled pinpricks. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the armchair.

He sat down on the sofa and stared out the window, not really seeing anything. Inhaling deeply, he waited for something, anything, to fill his nostrils. But nothing came except the distant traces of Mrs. Perry's cleaning products and his cigar. The apartment was as devoid of scent as it was of life.

Gregory got up from the sofa with a heavy sigh and walked over to the end table. Picking up a small brown paper shopping bag, he returned to the sofa. The heavy paper crinkled loudly as he reached inside and pulled out the box wrapped in tissue paper. Pushing the pale pink tissue aside, he opened the box and pulled out the small glass bottle. With a small tug, the decorative stopper was removed and the scent of _Fleurs du Ciel_ filled the room.

He placed the uncovered bottle in front of him on the coffee table and sat back. Staring out the window again, he inhaled deeply and sighed as the flowery perfume consumed his consciousness.

After the bottle had been opened and the scent became less dominant, Gregory stood up slowly and made his way to the corner window. Looking out in front of him, he saw Central Park South and the park. He turned and pulled back the curtain covering the window to his left. He looked across the open space.

Past the buildings in his way.

Across the Hudson River and the industrial skyline of New Jersey.

Over the flat grasslands of the Midwest and Plains states.

Over the dry desert of Las Vegas.

To the balmy and perpetual green of California.

To the west.

To Olivia.


	19. For You on Your 26th

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 19: "For You on Your 26th"

"July is hell."

"Hot as hell," Olivia corrected as she leaned against Gregory's chest. She raised her hand, wiped a trickle of sweat off her forehead, and sank lower in the bathtub. The cool water did little to relieve the scorching heat that blazed from the sun. She sighed and closed her eyes.

Gregory dipped his finger in the margarita and held it up to Olivia's lips. Her tongue found the ice-cold offering as it peaked out from her parted lips to lap it up. Her eyes flashed in pleasure as her mouth held his finger captive and he shifted his hips uncomfortably. The water stirred as she sat up and turned to face him. She grinned wickedly and took a small sip of the margarita before pressing her lips to Gregory's wanting ones. Hungrily, he devoured her mouth and its contents as their wet chests rubbed together.

Olivia broke away with a laugh as she reached up to wipe away a rivulet of the drink that ran down Gregory's chin. Her arms went around his neck and a pleasant smile graced her lips.

"What?" he asked breathlessly.

Her smile stretched wider and she shook her head. "Nothing." His eyes followed her as she stood up, the water running off her body in streams. She shook her head as he gazed longingly at her. "Oh no," she said quickly when he started to push himself up. "You stay right where you are."

His fingers danced up Olivia's leg to caress her inner thigh, causing the breath to catch in her throat. "What do I get if I do?"

A lilting chuckle rose up out of her throat as she stepped out of the tub and wrapped one of the large pale green towels around her body. She clipped her hair into a messy twist and winked at him over her shoulder. "Many, many things," she promised as Gregory leaned back in the tub, his feet resting on the rim as he grinned in anticipation.

Olivia closed the door to the bedroom partly and walked over to the front door of the suite. She opened it slightly and peered out into the hallway. "Bette," she whispered loudly.

A moment later, Bette's head poked around the corner and she hurried over to Olivia. "You're almost fifteen minutes late," she grumbled.

"Shhh!" Olivia took the square box tied with string from Bette and the paper shopping bag with her other hand. "He'll hear you."

Bette smiled as she imagined the look on Gregory's face. "He's got no idea, does he?"

"Nope." Olivia's head shook excitedly. "No clue." She glanced back into the room and grinned at Bette. "I have to-"

"Go, go," she shooed as Olivia leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Thank you darling. I couldn't have pulled this off without you."

"Story of my life," Bette sighed.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise." Olivia backed into the room, holding open the door with her foot. "Call me."

"GO." Bette waited until the door closed before she turned and walked down the hall. "Have fun Toots."

* * *

Gregory glanced down at his waterlogged fingers and then back at the doorway. "Olivia?" he called out. 

In another part of the suite, something fell to the floor and he heard her exasperated curse. The bedroom door creaked open and she appeared in the bathroom doorway a moment later.

"Sorry," she apologized as she brushed strands of flyaway hair out of her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and she tightened the knot holding her towel together. She grabbed his navy blue robe off the hook on the back of the door and held it open for him as he stood up.

Turning around, he looked at her closely and knotted the robe's belt. "What's going on out there?" he asked as he gestured to the suite.

She shrugged innocently and took his hand. "I don't know what you're talking about." Leading him into the bedroom, she hung back and allowed him into the sitting room first.

Gregory stopped short when he noticed the cake glowing with a dozen candles on the coffee table. A small box with a festive bow and two tall flutes filled with sparkling champagne sat next to it.

"Happy birthday," she said softly.

Wide eyed, he turned back to her. "How did you know?" he managed to ask.

Olivia gently nudged him over to the table and sat down next to him on the sofa. "I lifted your wallet last month." She interrupted his shocked laugh and pointed at the cake. "Make a wish."

He leaned over the cake for a brief moment before a stream of his breath blew out all the candles. He picked up the silver cake knife and cut into the thick vanilla frosting. When he passed her a piece, his fingers grazed hers as she took the plate. The moist cake with raspberry filling melted in his mouth and he sighed appreciatively. "Olivia, this is fabulous."

"Took forever to bake too," she deadpanned. She giggled and took a bite off her plate. Her leg hung over his as she leaned against him and held up her cake-laden fork. His lips wrapped around it and he pulled back with a sated sigh.

"You are incredible," Gregory whispered as she placed the partially eaten cake back on the coffee table. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he kissed her forehead and pulled her close to him. "Thank you." His eyes found hers and he stared deeply into them. "Thank you. I can't believe you would do this for m-"

"For you," she interrupted softly. She kissed his neck lightly and rested on his shoulder. He pulled her legs into his lap and kissed her head again as he blinked away a tear. She heard him sigh deeply and felt his chest shudder. Her finger trailed down his chest and traced over the muscles of his abdomen. "Your birthday makes you a Cancer. Did you know that the sign for Cancer is a '69'?"

Laughter rumbled deep in his chest as he swallowed back the emotions threatening to break the surface. "Is that an offer?"

Olivia sat up and smirked knowingly. "Maybe later. _After_ you open up your gift." She grabbed the box off the table and held it out to him.

Gregory put the bow aside as he peeled back the shiny wrapping paper and lifted the top off the box. The glass face of the pocket watch glinted as it caught the afternoon sunlight. The dial moved slowly over the black Roman numerals, jolting within his hand as he gently picked it up.

Olivia sat forward and folded her hands in her lap. "It's been in my family for over one hundred and fifty years." She watched as he turned it over and examined the gold backing engraved with twisting leafy vines and the manufacturer's signature. His quiet awe replaced the disinterested glance that AJ had quickly covered with overenthusiastic thanks when her father had presented it to him. After, the sole Blake family heirloom lay forgotten in one of AJ's drawers until she had rescued it two weeks ago and sent it off to be cleaned. As Gregory finally met her eyes, she knew that the pocket watch had found its true home.

He placed the watch carefully back in the box and his hand shook slightly as he took hers. "I love it," he whispered over the lump in his throat. He cleared his throat and squeezed her hand, finding comfort in the steady warmth of her grasp. "Are you sure you want me to hav-"

"There's no one else I'd be happier to see own it."

"Thank you, Liv."

Olivia's face scrunched in amusement. "Liv?" She smiled as he cupped her cheek and leaned in for her lips.

"You don't like it?" he asked softly as his lips toyed with hers.

"On the contrary…I love it." Her head tilted back as his lips moved over her chin and down her neck. "Liv," she repeated, testing out the new name.


	20. A Meeting of a Different Sort

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 20: "A Meeting of a Different Sort"

Martin Bailey had been the concierge at the _Sunset Beach Resort and Country Club _for the past twenty years. Before that, he spent ten years alternating between the roles of doorman and bellhop. In those thirty years, he watched as people from all walks of life passed through the glass doors inlaid with gold. The society set that hobnobbed with the Deschanel family at the _Crystal Ball_, the annual Christmas gala. The local couple who save all year long to spend their anniversary night at the priciest hotel in Sunset Beach. Even royalty once, in the form of a queen who came to congratulate the Deschanel's on the birth of their only son.

Now, he watched silently as a young woman glanced anxiously down at her watch. She rubbed her hands together and looked back at the glass doors. Martin had first noticed her when she hurried through the main doors and over to the desk. Her hand had smacked down on the glossy surface several times in a quick staccato.

"Can you tell me please if Gregory Richards has arrived?" she had asked breathlessly.

He shook his head after consulting the guest ledger. "No, Madame." Glancing down at his watch, he added, "We sent a car to meet him at the airport almost hour ago. He should be here shortly." With a dramatic sigh, the woman with bright blue eyes turned away, her arms folded taut across her chest.

After standing behind the counter and watching her pace impatiently for the past several moments, Martin cleared his throat. "Madame?" he called. He gestured her over with his hand and said in a hushed tone, "Perhaps you would like to wait for Mr. Richards in the bar, yes? I would be happy to direct him there when he checks in."

With a quick peek back at the door, she nodded quickly. "Now don't forget," she said as she walked past him towards the bar.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Watching her disappear into the bar, Martin breathed a sigh of relief. The lobby returned to the calm oasis it always had been before the woman disrupted the quiet with her nervous anxiety. _I wonder what she wants with Mr. Richards_, he thought. _Perhaps she's THE woman_.

Martin prided himself on not only his own discretion, but also that of the entire hotel staff. It was his mantra to new employees that if the guest felt their activities were completely confidential, they would leave happy and continue to frequent the hotel. Despite that stern warning, he occasionally encountered gossiping members of the housekeeping and room service staff. One of the guests mentioned was the gentleman from New York, Mr. Richards. He was already subject to interest and speculation because he had a standing reservation, but only used the suite once a month. Though he always checked in and out alone, the room service staff began to whisper that Mr. Richards occasionally ordered meals for two. A member of the housekeeping staff then chimed in that a woman's perfume clung to the linen bed sheets and that lipstick stained the pale green hand towels in the bathroom. They continued to compare notes in the staff lounge before Martin forced an end to their fun.

He thumbed through a stack of check out receipts and began to file them when a shadow stepped in front of him. Looking up, Martin stared into the dark eyes of the said gentleman, Mr. Gregory Richards. He tucked the receipts beneath the counter and smiled welcomingly. "Mr. Richards! Welcome back sir."

"Thank you." Gregory passed his briefcase to the porter that already held his luggage and took the pen from the concierge. He initialed the register and looked up.

"I trust the flight was comfortable?" Martin took the pen from Gregory and folded the thick leather bound book shut.

"It was fine," Gregory said as Martin turned to the wall behind the counter for the room key. "Just fine." He pocketed the key and started to leave when the concierge called out to him again.

"There's a woman, sir, waiting in the bar for you." Any reaction that Gregory had to his words he kept hidden behind a blank expression. "She seemed quite…_anxious_ to speak with you."

Gregory looked in the direction of the bar and mumbled, "Thank you for telling me." He pulled a folded bill out of his pocket and passed it to the porter. "Take my luggage to my suite, please." His eyebrows bent in confusion as he walked over the Oriental carpet in the lobby and entered the bar.

Olivia was at the forefront of his mind and had been ever since he met her. As much as he hoped it was her that waited for him, he knew it couldn't be. Her enthusiasm for him and their affair was only matched by her desperate need to keep it a secret. Still, when he stood in the doorway of the bar, his eyes furiously skimmed across the room for that dark head of hers.

"Yoo hoo! Over here!"

He followed the loud voice with his eyes and found a red head waving energetically at him. Confusion washed over him as he took a step closer. _Who the hell is she?_

"Lord it took you long enough! I've been waiting for you for close to half an hour!" She nudged the chair next to her out and looked from him to it. "Bad flight?"

Gregory shook off his confusion and folded his arms across his chest. "I'm sorry…Do I _know_ you?"

Shrill laughter spilled out of her mouth as she leaned back in the chair. "No, but you will. Sit…please."

He eyed her closely as he sat down across from her. His rested his hands on the cool dime sized table and grinned involuntarily when he remembered sitting with Olivia in this room five months ago. The way she blushed slightly when he propositioned her, the red rising slowly in her cheeks.

The red head cleared her throat loudly and jested, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Richards. There's a few things we need to _discuss_."

"Well," Gregory cleared his throat and leaned in, "that's all well and good. Before we talk about whatever it is we need to discuss, why don't we first start with your name."

Her head shook disbelievingly. "When Livy told me you were cute, she forgot to mention that description wasn't limited to your looks. She didn't tell me your accent was just as cute."

"Olivia?"

"Mm hmmm, Olivia." She watched as Gregory turned around and searched the room again. _Interesting_, she thought to herself. She took a sip of her iced tea and placed it gently back on the table. "Oh, she isn't here. It's just me for now and I'll be long gone when she does show up in about an hour."

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" Gregory exploded. _And what the hell do you know about Olivia and I?_

"Relax," she commanded, "and save your stamin-, err, strength for Olivia when she gets here." _Enough toying with him, before he reaches across the table with those itchy fingers and strangles me_. "I'm Bette…Bette Douglas."

_Bette_. _Olivia's friend_. Relief coursed through Gregory's veins and he leaned against the sturdy back of the chair. He folded his hands in front of him and watched a pleased smile spread across her face. "Ah yes," he smirked, "the sister Olivia never had."

"Oh, good. She told you about me. Can't imagine when she found the time," she deadpanned. "You two must be _busy_ during your…whatever we're calling them nowadays."

Gregory chuckled loudly and tapped his fingers against the tabletop. " 'Nights in Shangri-la'?" he suggested with a smile.

"I was going to say 'torrid trysts'…But different strokes for different folks, eh?" He nodded and Bette took a moment to observe Olivia's man from New York up close. His dark eyes were piercing, with just a hint of dangerous fun and mystery that could sweep a woman away. Finely chiseled features offset his dark hair and complimented the light tan. _It's easy to see why Livy fell so hard for him, not that she'll admit that. Not yet, anyway_. She tore her eyes away from him and moved her tall glass aside. "So…"

"So," Gregory echoed, "now that I know your name, what is it that we need to discuss?"

Bette giggled and leaned in closer to the table. "Oh, nothing really. Just a few things that I wanted to clear up and get straight."

"And I'm happy to help," he muttered. He moved the chair closer and leaned in, mirroring Bette. "Look, just tell me- Is Olivia alright?"

She smiled reassuringly and said, "She's fine." His sigh of relief didn't go unnoticed by Bette before he straightened his expression back to its neutral stance. "But she doesn't know I'm here."

His eyebrow arched in surprise. "Oh no? I thought you two told each other everything."

"And we do, _usually_. But like I said, there's a few things I wanted to clear up. Between you and I." The paper napkin found its way out from beneath the glass and into Bette's hands, where she started to twist it anxiously. "You were right before. When you said that I was the sister Olivia never had. For me, she's the sister my mother never had because she thought it would ruin her figure." Gregory smiled and watched silently as Bette started to shred the napkin into long thin strips of paper. "Livy and I, we hit it right off. I needed a French tutor in college and she was the only one of the professor's assistants who didn't give me grief about messing up the conjugations of the irregular verbs." Her eyes gazed through him distractedly, as her memory drifted back in time. "Anyway," she continued after she shook herself out of the past, "we became very close. And, I love her. There's nothing that I wouldn't do for Livy. Lord knows she's always been there for me when I've needed someone. If you don't already know this about her, there's never any questions when it comes to helping someone she cares about. If you need her, she's there."

Gregory swallowed and he nodded, thinking back to the impromptu birthday party Olivia had planned. Even now, his chest still tightened with emotion when he thought of the candle lit cake and the antique pocket watch she gave. The pocket watch that he placed in a wooden case and displayed on his office deck. When he looked at it, she entered his mind and he could see her so clearly in front of him, as if she was standing there in the flesh. "She's a wonderful woman."

Bette shook her head. "She's _the best_," she corrected. "And she deserves nothing less than the best. Which is why-"

"Why what?"

She frowned and looked away, staring down at the pile of paper shreds in front of her. "Why it's so sad that she settled for less."

Gregory glanced away and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "If you came to talk about AJ-"

"Oh hell no!" Bette interrupted. "I try _not to _talk about or to him if I don't have to." The pile of paper shreds went the way of the glass and she clarified, "What I want to talk about is you. And your intentions."

Amused laughter bubbled deep within Gregory's chest and a smile shattered his cool expression. "My intentions?"

"Yes," she snapped testily as he continued to chuckle. "Your intentions."

Gregory rested his elbows on the edge of the table and leaned his face in his hands. He wiped a tear of laughter out of his eyes and attempted to stifle his laughter after Bette hit him with a harsh glare. "I'm sorry. It's just-" his explanation was lost in another chuckle before he coughed and grew silent. "You were saying."

"Thank you," Bette snapped. She took a deep breath and continued, in a calmer voice, "I want to know what you intend to do with Olivia."

"Do?"

"Are you going to just up and leave her when you've finished toying with her and you've had your fill of fun?"

His eyes flashed angrily and his hands balled into tight fists. "Toying with her? I lo-" he broke off abruptly.

"Yes?" Bette asked anxiously. "You what?" _Say it_.

The anger in his eyes cooled and he nervously tapped his finger against the glass flower vase in the center of the table. "I'm not toying with her," he said quietly, his eyes downcast as his mind reeled.

Bette sat back, her hands folded in her lap as a feeling of satisfaction settled around her. _I've gotten what I've come for_. "Well, that's good to know. I'd hate to see Olivia hurt." She paused before adding, "Because then I'd have to kill you."

Gregory rubbed the back of his neck tiredly and smiled softly at Bette. "You're a good friend to her."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I do what I can for the people I love. There aren't many of them out there."

"I know what you mean," he mumbled and glanced down at his watch.

Bette pulled her drawstring purse off the back of the chair and stood up. "I should let you go," she explained as he stood up with her. "Let you freshen up before Livy sees you and what not." She punched his arm affectionately. "You're alright Greggy."

"Bette," he said as he followed her out of the bar, "if _you_ want to be alright in the future, you'll do best to never call me that again."


	21. That Lucky Day

****

NOTE: This chapter is RATED ADULT for sexual content. Also, the title of this chapter was inspired by the song Olivia sings (lyrics in italics), "Just in Time" by Nina Simone from the cd "The Tomato Collection".

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 21: "That Lucky Day"

"Hit me."

Gregory raised his eyebrow teasingly and laid down on his side, his head propped up by his arm. The rhythmic strains of a piano and tambourine wafted out of the speakers in the sitting room. "Are you _sure_?"

The bed shifted like a wave as Olivia tucked her knees under her body and looked down. Her lips curled up in a nervous smile and she bobbed her head in response. She lifted her eyes and met Gregory's smirk. "Yes," she said defiantly. "Hit me." He pushed a card across the thick, light bronze silk comforter. Her fingers brushed over his as she covered the card and his hand with hers. "Thank you," she said softly as she pulled the card back and turned the corner up. "Damn," she muttered. "Twenty three."

"The blouse." Gregory snickered as she flicked the card back at him.

Olivia stuck her tongue out at him and kneeled up on the bed. With a teasing smile and an arched eyebrow, she gently pulled up the bottom of her patchwork smock top. Gregory grinned as the smooth and lightly tanned skin of her stomach peeked out from under the rising fabric. She giggled and pulled the shirt over her head and let if flutter to the floor.

"Now we're getting somewhere," he muttered as he dealt each of them two new cards. He lifted the corner of the face down card and glanced at it. He heard Olivia sigh and he looked back up at her. Her blue eyes drew intensity from her navy blue bra as she glared down at the cards in front of her. "Problems?"

"Not at all," she answered sweetly, the glare fading away. She looked at him expectantly and smiled. "I'm standing."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" he teased.

Olivia leaned forward, affording him a full shot of her cleavage. "Positive."

He shrugged nonchalantly and flipped over his cards. "Nineteen."

She nodded and met his eyes. "That is impressive-"

"The bra-"

"-but so is twenty." Olivia smile turned smug as she flipped over her set of cards. "Read 'em and weep, darling." She sang along with the song softly in French as Gregory sat up and pulled off his collared suit shirt.

"You're a showoff," he mumbled as he let his feet hang off the foot of the bed.

"Oh," Olivia scoffed playfully as she crawled across the bed and into his lap. She caressed the side of his face and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Poor Gregory." She giggled as his arms wrapped around her waist and his hands traveled up her back to the clasp of her bra. "And you're naughty," she whispered in his ear.

"It was your idea to play 'Strip Blackjack'," he reminded her.

"Only because I don't know how to play 'Strip Poker'…and that was _your_ idea."

"That's right. It _was_." She missed his grin as her head fell back and his lips fondled the fragrant skin of neck. "Delicious," he whispered, his faint breath tickling her flesh.

Olivia reached behind her to push Gregory's hands away from the clasp. She leaned back up as his lips fell away from the side of her neck. "Deal."

He passed two cards to each of them, pulling the excess pile next to them. His eyes continued to watch her over the top of his pair as she took another card. The words to the song fell from her lips softly as she shifted in his lap and considered her hand. He reached up and traced the thin strap of the bra that hugged her shoulder and down to her breast. His hand cupped the soft mound of flesh gently before he gave it a slight squeeze. Her arm tightened around his neck and she bit her lip as his mouth found the swell of her breast.

"Oh God," she gasped as he pulled down the satin material of her bra cup. The cards fell from her hand as he pulled her closer to him and captured her nipple in between his lips. Her fingers wove through the hair on the back of his head as tongue and teeth created a counterpoint as they alternately teased her.

When Gregory heard her breath run shallow and come out in a rasp, his eyes looked up as he trailed kisses away from her breast and up her to her throat again. "I've got," he managed to say in between kisses, "seventeen."

A slight groan escaped from her lips as the cool air from the fan hit her exposed breast and chased away the warmth that Gregory showered it with a moment ago. "Fifteen," she gasped.

As they reached jointly for the bra clasp, their fingers knocking together, he smirked at her. "You had all those cards and only a fifteen?"

Olivia shrugged as Gregory slid the straps off her and pulled the satin away from her body. His arms wrapped around her, replacing the cool she felt as his fingers trailed up the smooth expanse of her bare back. "So it goes," she whispered as she pushed herself off his lap.

"Where are you going?"

She turned away and looked back, a brilliant smile flashing over her shoulder. "Nowhere." Her head rolled back and her hips swayed as she hummed along with the jaunty beat of the piano solo. She unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down. The wide flares fell to the ground in a heap as she kicked them off. "_I was lost_," she sang softly as she turned back around to face him, "_the losing dice were tossed_." She pulled the chopsticks out of her hair and shook her head as the dark hair tumbled around her shoulders.

The amusement rang out from his eyes as he sat silently and watched as she removed the matching satin and lace trimmed panties. "_My bridges all crossed...Nowhere to go…"_ The rest of the song died on her lips as he grabbed her swaying hips and pulled her to him gently. The lips met briefly before she pulled away and whispered teasingly, "You're a tad bit overdressed."

Gregory looked into her eyes and conceded her point by leaning back on his elbows and grinning broadly. She smiled and leaned over him, her lips and tongue trailing down his chest. Her hands braced his arms down as she blew a soft stream of air over the skin that met the waistband of his pants.

She smirked wickedly as he shifted uncomfortably under her cool breeze. Her fingers unwound from his arms and moved down his body, nimbly undoing the button on his suit pants. She slid further down his body and clenched her pearly white teeth around the metal hook of the zipper.

He balled his hands into fists and sighed as her head bent over his fly, her hair fanning out across the flesh of his waist. The zipper buzzed softly open as she moved off his body and kneeled before him. His eyes managed to focus on her, pulling off his leather dress shoes and his socks.

Olivia glanced up at him as she grabbed the hem of his pants, tugging them gently off his body. He raised his hips as the crisp material whistled over legs before falling into her waiting hands. She pushed his pants aside and stood up. "Only thing left," she said softly as she climbed back onto the bed and kneeled over him, "is this." She reached out and snapped back the elastic band of his boxer shorts.

Gregory pulled his legs back and kneeled up in front of her. "They're all yours, Liv." He smirked as she tucked her fingers inside the waistband and wrapped them tightly around it. She pushed the boxers down and leaned against him as his hands grabbed hold of her hips.

The boxers pooled around his knees as he pulled Olivia flush against him, her breasts flattening against his chest. "You…," he whispered as his finger traced a path from her hairline to her jawbone. The song ended with a flourish and scratchy static filled the air as the needle drifted onto the paper label covering the center of the record.

"Me?" Her eyes closed as he nuzzled the side of her face and her arms rested heavily around his neck. She gasped softly as she felt him spreading her legs with his and grabbed his shoulders tightly as entered her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as the now familiar feeling of him coursed within her. She wrapped her arms around his back, her fingers streaking pink trails of friction across his skin.

His arms locked underneath her arms and splayed against her shoulder blades. His cheek rested against hers and the sound of her heavy breathing rushed past his ear, disrupted by her gasping plea, "Harder, Grego-" His name caught in her throat as he obliged her wish and increased his speed.

She moaned loudly, the noise echoing throughout the bedroom and the rest of the suite. He watched her eyes glint when he crushed his lips against hers. Sharing air now, her moan was swallowed by him as he continued to thrust his hips into her. Her lips burned red when she broke away, her forehead resting against his and her pants falling on his lips. Her long moan ended in a gasp as she shuttered and narrowed her eyes.

Her moan rumbled in his ears, sending him over the edge as she collapsed against him. "God Olivia," he groaned as he clenched her shoulders, leaving behind deep red imprints in her unblemished skin. Her back glistened with sweat and her hair stuck heavily to the back of her neck. He gathered her hair to the side her back shuddered with heaving breaths.

Cradling Olivia in his arms, Gregory yanked the comforter up and laid her back against the pillows. The sheets were cool on her back and she closed her eyes as kicked the cover sheet down to the foot of the bed and wrapped his arm around her. Her heart pounded in her ears and she felt Gregory's hand run through her hair. As he kissed her temple, the pounding died off and the flames in the pit of her stomach cooled. She struggled to open her eyes as she mumbled, "Gregory?"

His thigh brushed against hers as he hushed her and pulled her deeper into his embrace. "Just rest, Liv."

She turned her head to face him and forced her eyes open slightly. She smiled tiredly and whispered, "I…never…want to…leave…" Her voice trailed away and her eyes fell shut again. Sighing, she leaned against Gregory and he listened as her breathing became steady and deep.

"I know."


	22. Truth & Lies

(See first for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 22: "Truth and Lies"

The winds from the ocean breezed through the open patio doors and ruffled the bunched up sheets that hung off the foot of the bed. The soft gust teased Gregory's bare feet and caused him to stir. He shifted and turned his head, opening his eyes slowly. Olivia laid on her side, pressed against him. Her head rested on his shoulder, one of her legs tangled in between his. He yawned and watched as her arm rose on top of his chest as it expanded with his breath. Turning away from her for a moment, he squinted at the small clock on the night table and saw it was just after five thirty. "Damn," he muttered. He sighed heavily and glared up at the ceiling.

Gregory looked back at Olivia. Her smooth calf felt like silk against the coarse hair of his own. The blue eyes that fascinated him hid behind closed eyelids and her lips pursed together gently as she sighed in her sleep. Of all the women that he had bedded, very rarely did he allow himself to wake up with them. He preferred to avoid the semblance of romantic intimacy and the promise to call again that he would never follow through with. But now, lying here with Olivia and holding her while she slept peacefully in his arms, made him long for five more minutes with her.

He sighed regretfully and rubbed her arm gently. "Liv?" He leaned closer to her ear and whispered her name again.

His soft breath tickled Olivia's ear and she moaned softly as more of her senses came awake. His fingers were trailing the length of her arm and the sound of her name cut through the haze. She opened her eyes slowly and smiled tiredly at Gregory. "Morning," she said softly. The sleep clung to her throat and made her British accent more pronounced as she arched her back and yawned. A tired sigh escaped her lips and she stretched her arm in the air before it fell back to Gregory's chest and curled around his neck. She kissed the side of his neck and nuzzled against it.

Gregory smiled and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. "I hate to tell you this, but it isn't morning."

Olivia rolled back from his neck and propped her head up with her hand. "I know," she whispered as she traced over his lips with her finger, "but it's nice to pretend."

He captured her fingers with his hands and pressed them to his lips. He allowed his lips to skim over the length of her index finger before he kissed it softly. With a gentle squeeze, their interlocked hands fell to his chest and rested over his heart. "Is your reality that upsetting?"

She leaned up with a sigh. "You've never asked about my marriage before."

"Well," he said as he sat up next to her, "AJ is never on my list of priorities when I'm alone with you."

"Nor mine," she said softly as she hugged a pillow to her chest and turned to Gregory. The cool breeze stroked her back and calmed the ice that dripped into her stomach. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes.

"Liv." Gregory turned her face back to him gently and cupped her chin. "You don't have to talk about it." He pried the pillow she clutched to her chest and grabbed her now free hands.

She shook her head and smiled slightly. "It's fine. It's-" She sighed deeply and looked down at their linked hands. "I just never thought I'd have so many regrets."

"About what?" he asked quietly after a moment.

Olivia's breath came out in a shudder and she whispered, "Everything."

He pulled her into his lap and he tucked her hair behind her ear. "Including us?"

"No!" She shook her head emphatically and continued, "_Never_ us." She blinked and stared into his brown eyes with such intensity that Gregory had to force his eyes down. "Never us," she repeated. "This time- our time together…It's the only thing that makes me happy anymore."

"Did he ever?"

Olivia's blue eyes narrowed in thought and she felt Gregory's thumb stroke her own. "No. He's- He has never made me feel as alive as you do."

"Then why-"

"Did I marry him in the first place?" Gregory nodded and Olivia lowered her eyes. "I thought," she whispered so softly that he struggled to hear her, "I needed to choose."

"Choose?" he asked as she slid off his lap and pressed the pillow to her chest again.

She gathered her long hair to one side and it fell over her left shoulder. The sweat induced mass of dark ringlets shook as she nodded her head. "I didn't know I could have them both." She met Gregory's eyes and continued, "When I was six, my parents divorced." She swallowed past the large lump in her throat and wrapped her arms tighter around the pillow as Gregory inched closer to her. "I remember sitting on the staircase and peering through the slats of the banister." Her hands freed the twisted pillow and clenched the air where the wooden bars once were. "My mother didn't just leave my father. She left me too."

Gregory wrapped his hands around her tightly balled fists and lowered them. He cupped her cheek and whispered her name.

Olivia's eyes focused on him and she whispered, "It was the first time I'd seen Poppy cry." She cleared her throat and blinked away the tears that stung her eyes. "When we were dating, AJ was sweet and kind. He was charming and-" She broke off and bit her lip. Gregory's brown eyes were patient and the warmth of his hand on her cheek was reassuring. "But I accepted his proposal because I knew that he would never hurt me. It's selfish, I know," she said as she put her hand over Gregory's and wrapped her fingers around his, "but I-"

"You didn't want to cry the way your father did." She nodded as he smiled sadly and squeezed her hand. "So you traded your happiness for safety."

She bit back a sob and nodded again. "I just-"

Gregory hushed her and pulled her into his arms, wrapping them tightly across her shaking back. "You don't owe me an explanation, Liv." He rubbed her back soothingly and closed his eyes. "If only I had met you first," he whispered under his breath. He cleared his throat and said in a more audible tone, "You deserve to be happy."

Olivia pulled away slightly and smiled slightly. "When I'm with you…I am." She sighed and leaned her head against his forehead, her knees resting in between his legs.

* * *

The last thing Olivia felt up to was dinner with her husband and in-laws. However, Armando insisted on it daily. Drinks before hand in the parlor and then dinner together. On more nights than she cared to count, she plastered a smile to her face and endured a meal with Julianna because she knew how important it was to her father-in-law. Tonight was no exception. She'd grin and bear it, for Armando. 

But when Olivia turned her bright red Mercedes convertible into the driveway of _Reve de la Mer_, she saw half a dozen cars already parked there. "Bloody hell," she muttered as she took her key out of the ignition. She slammed her door shut and walked in between the different cars to the front door. _The last thing I need is a party with lots of guests_, she grumbled to herself as she pushed open the front door.

The tension hit her like a ton of bricks as she walked through the foyer. Loud voices rang out from the study, but the piercing shrill of the several phone lines in Armando's home office overshadowed even that. Since he had retired, AJ was the only one who used it now.

As she walked down the hall, she noticed Julianna standing in the doorway of the patio. A strong breeze kicked up in the short while since she'd left Gregory's hotel room. Rain was on the horizon in the form of dark clouds and the sticky moisture that the wind carried inland. The sheer curtains billowed and swirled around Julianna as Olivia touched her shoulder. "Is something wrong?" she asked as the older woman turned around.

Julianna frowned and shook off Olivia's touch. She picked up her glass and took a large swallow of the scotch in it. "A business arrangement collapsed," she said tightly as she sat in the chair and crossed her legs.

Olivia grimaced and sat across from Julianna. "How bad?"

The sound of glass shattering cut off Julianna's answer. Both women jumped up and ran to Armando's office. The office was at the end of the house, just across from the wood paneled study. The trio of men standing in the doorway moved aside as Julianna and Olivia approached. Julianna pushed past her daughter-in-law and entered the office first.

Peering over her shoulder, Olivia saw a pile of glass shards at the base of Armando's feet. He leaned on the edge of the desk, his chest heaving and his face flushed a deep shade of red. Three other men, whom she recognized as board members of _Deshcanel Shipping_, stood off to the side. AJ sat hunched over in one of the leather armchairs in front of Armando's desk, his head in his hands.

Olivia started to back out of the room when Armando spat out, "Almost one hundred million dollars!" She froze as her father in law picked up another piece of the decorative blown glass she and AJ brought back from their honeymoon in Spain and hurled it at the floor. It exploded and the splinters nestled against the dark fibers of the Oriental carpet. He cursed crudely in French and gestured angrily at AJ. "How could you be so stupid?"

Julianna flinched and she stepped further into the room as Olivia and the three men by the door backed further out of it. The men still in the office flattened themselves against the wall. "Armando!" she chastised.

Armando held up his hand and his eyes flashed warningly. "Stay out of this," he ordered. Julianna glared at her husband but stayed silent. Instead, she stood behind AJ and squeezed his shoulder. "I don't for the life of me," he bellowed, "understand how you lost almost one hundred million dollars. How in the hell did it happen? Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

AJ sat up slowly and eyed his father. A muscle in his cheek twitched nervously under Armando's strong gaze and his hands fluttered together in his lap. He shook his head and swallowed deeply.

Scoffing, Armando turned away and sighed. He ran his hand angrily through his hair and muttered, "One hundred million dollars." He collapsed into the chair behind his desk and clenched the arms. "We told you. We _all_ told you." The anger coursing through his veins snapped out as he slammed his fist down on the desk. "Everyone told you that if you into business with Remington, no good would come of it. The Board advised you when you approached them. Gregory Richards refused to invest. So what do you do? You go it alone! You withdrew money from our other divisions and sign it all over to Remington, who proceeds to lose it all!" His fist connected with the desk again and then his arm swept across the desk, knocking off the picture frames and a stack of files. A drop of sweat fell from his eyebrow and he struggled for breath. "Put- Putting you in charge of the company was a mistake."

Julianna gasped and straightened her spine as Olivia covered her mouth in shock. Never had Armando spoken so harshly to AJ before. But never had AJ made such a large error in judgment before. And, he had made a few. But never as bad as this.

"Get out!" Armando waved his hand dismissively. "All of you! Get out!"

Olivia moved out of the doorway as the six associates rushed out. She peaked around the doorframe and saw Julianna step closer to the desk, the shards of glass popping beneath her feet. Her back was unnaturally straight and she clasped her hands in front of her.

"I'm sure," Julianna said through clenched teeth, "that all of this was not AJ's doing."

Armando rolled his eyes and stood up, locking his warm hazel eyes with his wife's blue ones. "Cheri, when will you learn that you cannot defend all of his actions? He made a bad decision, against the advice of all of his advisors, and he lost one hundred million dollars of my money!"

"Well, perhaps these so called advisors should have been more forceful with their advice so that AJ-"

Olivia backed slowly from the office and turned away. The angry voices of her in-laws arguing followed her down the hallway. She flinched as Armando continued to curse in French and Julianna's shrill voice matched his bellowing. And the one voice that should have rang out, to defend his actions, was silent. _Typical_, Olivia thought as she walked up the stairs to the silence of her bedroom.


	23. The L Word

****

NOTE: This chapter is RATED ADULT for sexual content.

(See first part for disclaimers, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 23: "The L Word"

Armando slammed the phone down and angrily beckoned Therese to take it away. His chest rose and fell as he took several deep breaths. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small white bottle and shook several pills into his hand. He threw his head back and swallowed the pills with a long sip of ice water.

Olivia slowly lowered the book she was reading when Armando set the glass down loudly on the table. AJ shifted nervously in the chair next to her. "Well?" he asked as Olivia closed her book and laid it in her lap.

"The biggest quarterly loss in the history of _Deschanel Shipping_." Armando sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He raised his water glass and proclaimed, "And it's all your doing, Son. Congratulations."

Julianna frowned and drummed her fingernails on the glass surface of the table. The tapping increased steadily and she said sharply, "Don't be so hard on him. You'll make it back."

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" Armando roared. Therese turned and fled back into the house. "In four months, our son nearly bankrupted the company that I spent my life building!"

Olivia slipped her feet inside her sandals as Armando muttered a curse in French, a habit he had been engaging in quite a bit lately.

"Don't be crude, Armando." Julianna eyes followed Olivia as she stood up, clutching her book in front of her. "Plans?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." She smiled sweetly at Julianna as she walked around the table. "Bette needs to drive up the coast to pick up something for her brother and she wanted some company. We should be back after dinner so there's no need to wait for me."

AJ followed her into the house, leaving his parents to sit in an angry silence. "What time are you going to be back?"

Olivia turned around, an exasperated sigh rolling off her lips. "I don't know. Sometime after dinner…Why?"

He shrugged and glanced anxiously around the foyer as she picked up her purse from the antique bench. "I thought I might play some golf. Get out of the house."

She leaned in front of the mirror, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Well then, enjoy yourself." She pecked his cheek, her lips barely touching his skin.

"You too," AJ called out as she opened the front door.

* * *

Gregory's fingers reached under the mussed sheet and began to trace lazy patterns on Olivia's back. Around in circles, straight up and down. His fingers danced all across her back, running across the soft flesh. 

The silk sheets whispered and rippled over their bodies as Olivia stretched contentedly, her feet arching into gentle curves. A light ocean breeze drifted in from the balcony, perfuming the air with a fresh and salty mist. It kissed the back of her neck and she closed her eyes. Peace blanketed the room, an accord brokered by Gregory's fingers on her skin.

He sat up, bunching the pillows under his back as he leaned against the headboard. His hand rubbed against her cheek as she turned over onto her back. "Are you hungry?" he asked softly. Olivia's eyes opened slowly and she looked up at him, a shy smile curling up the corners of her mouth. "For _food_," he stressed, his amusement brimming in his brown eyes. He tapped his index finger lightly against her lips and promised, "We will again."

She kissed his finger and sat up, the silk sheet sliding down on her chest as she rested her head against his shoulder. "What do you want to eat?"

"Steak for dinner," he said as he stroked her stomach through the sheet, causing her to squirm, "and you for dessert." Her lyrical chuckle bubbled up from her throat as she kissed his shoulder and slid out of the bed. "Where you going?" he called out as she padded barefoot across the floor.

The showerhead pulsed to life in response and she left the door partially open. An invitation. He could hear Olivia talking to him, but he couldn't make out her words. He followed her into the bathroom and pushed open the door. "You want to run that by me one more time?"

Olivia poked her head out of the shower, steam billowing out from the break in the shower curtain. The water dripped off her head and puddled on the tile floor. "I said that I'd like corned beef hash and two poached eggs…please." She smiled at the face he made.

"Is that really what you want?"

She grinned and nodded. "I promise you that's what I want." She watched him for a moment as he leaned leisurely against the doorframe in the nude, his arms followed across his chest. "There's room for two," she said before ducking back into the shower. The small bottle of shampoo sat on the ceramic shelf and she squeezed the thick gel into her palm. As she worked the lather through her long dark hair, its cleansing scent hung in the steam.

A cool draft cut through the heat and she felt Gregory's hands on her shoulders. He urged her hands down and replaced them with his own. The tips of his fingers dug into her scalp, massaging it until it tingled. She leaned into him, his chest bracing her weight. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I've ordered the food."

Olivia nodded slightly and her head fell back against his chest as heavy relaxation swept over her. He turned her around gently and tilted her head under the stream of water. His eyes never left her face as her lips parted slightly and a rivulet of water ran down her forehead. As the floor of the shower foamed with the shampoo runoff, her head fell further under the water and her neck glistened with water. He bent forward and lapped up the trail of water that wound its way down her face and onto her inviting neck.

She gripped his arm and mumbled, "Dessert usually comes _after_ dinner." The water ran clear from her hair and the dark mass hung heavily from her head.

Gregory pulled back and asked, "We're going to start following the rules _now_?"

"Rules are meant to be broken," she conceded after a moment. She kissed the tip of his nose and turned back to the showerhead to rinse the remaining shampoo from her hairline.

Pressing against her back, Gregory's arms wrapped around her waist. His hands traveled up over her wet skin and cupped her breasts. His fingers ran across them, teasing and rubbing against the soft flesh. With a low moan, her head fell back to his shoulder and she raised her arms, drawing his head closer to hers. His lips found her ear first, his tongue running along the lobe before his teeth grazed over it.

He wedged his bent leg in between hers after she slumped against him. One hand fell from her chest and skimmed down to her stomach before stroking the tender flesh between her legs. She gasped and arched her back, pushing her hips closer to his teasing hand. The pounding showerhead mirrored her heart as his other hand drifted down to stroke the sensitive area. Her body writhed against his, rubbing against his evident desire for her. As her arms tightened around his neck and her breath came out in shallow pants, he pulled his fingers away and gripped her hips.

He turned her around and with an unfulfilled groan, she asked, "Why?"

With a soft thud, Gregory pushed her against the earth-toned tile of the wall. As he yanked her hips to his waist, he growled in her ear, "I want to see your face when I make you scream my name." With a hunger that never diminished, he devoured her lips with his own. Their teeth ground together as her tongue delved into his mouth. Her brain screamed out for oxygen and before she could pull back, his breath rushed into her mouth and down into her lungs. The need for oxygen was now replaced by the need for Gregory, as his hands continued to fondle her breasts.

Olivia's knees buckled under her and he grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her body as he picked her up into his arms. He struggled to get a firm grip on her slick body until she locked her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

"I've got _you_," she whispered in his ear before he locked lips with her again, muffling her moan as he buried himself in her. He froze for a moment, staring deep into her eyes. The azure glinted as she shifted against him anxiously. Without breaking eye contact, he withdrew briefly before rushing back to her, harder and deeper than before. Her eyes narrowed and they disappeared a bit as they rolled back into her head slightly as he continued to press further into her. Crying out when he left her, she welcomed him back each time with a low moan. His fingers pressed into her hips, as he struggled to keep hold of her. Her moans segued into a fevered scream as his name exploded from her lips and echoed around them. She clenched around him, her legs tightening around his waist as her body arched into his.

"God Liv-" he groaned with a final thrust. He rested his head against her breast, her heart throbbing against his ear. Gently, he unwound her legs and held her as she slid down the wall. Her arms tightened around his neck, not trusting her own legs to support her. His back shook as he struggled to breathe and she ran her hand soothingly up and down his spine. He reached around her for the lever and pushed it down, ending the waterfall that rained down on them. He kissed her forehead and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. She shivered in his embrace and he pushed back the shower curtain, the rings clattering against the bar they hung from.

Olivia felt around the wall outside the shower until her hands brushed the soft cotton of the towel. She fumbled with it for a moment before she pulled it to her.

Gregory stepped out of the shower first and took the pale green towel from her, holding it up. "Raise your arms, Sweetheart," he coaxed. Her arms were heavy and he was quick to wrap it around her body. His lips were gentle against hers as he kissed her softly before taking her hands and helping her out of the shower. His bathrobe had landed on the floor when they pulled the towel free and she helped him into it.

Latching onto his hand, Olivia followed him out of the bathroom. The sun dipped behind the horizon, casting an orange glow in the room. His fingers combed through her hair, working out the wet tangles and she kissed the hand she held. A trio of raps on the door shattered the intimate silence. With a sigh, Gregory pulled his hands away from her and disappeared into the sitting room.

Her hands fluttered to her mouth and a small smile graced her lips. She closed her eyes as the palm frond outside the balcony rustled in the wind. The door in the sitting room closed and a moment later, he called out, "Liv?"

She turned around, adjusting the towel around her body. Her wet hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders as she walked into the sitting room. The room service cart was still between the sofa and coffee table.

Gregory gestured her to the sofa and when she was settled, he sat down on the table across from her. "I hope you're still hungry." His answer was her sigh of happiness as she cut into the corn beef hash and put it in her mouth.

"This was what my grandmother made me for breakfast every year on my birthday," she explained as her fork clinked against the plate and she scooped up more.

He swallowed a piece of his steak and waved the fork lazily in his hand. "You must have been an adorable little girl."

Olivia blushed and shrugged. She held up her fork to him and smiled when he accepted the offering. "You like?" He nodded as he picked up the china cup and poured steaming tea into it. She watched silently as he added two spoonfuls of sugar and stirred it gently before passing it to her. She stared down at his offering and then up at him.

"What?" he asked, his eyes wrinkling in confusion. "Two sugars."

She smiled and shook her head. "I just can't believe you remembered- We must've had tea only once together."

The color rose slightly in Gregory's cheeks and he smiled bashfully. "You take your tea with two sugars and your coffee the same way, except you add a splash of milk." He reached across the cart for her hand as he continued, "You always lay on my left when we're in bed together. When you're nervous, you bite the right corner of your lip. And when you're embarrassed, you bite your lip and blush…Just like you're doing now." He chuckled and squeezed her hand. "And when you smile, your face scrunches up and your eyes…Your eyes just light up your face."

She raised her free hand to brush against her cheek, feeling the heat radiate from it. "Well," she said softly as she stroked his thumb, "it appears that I'm a creature of habit." She released his hand and picked up the teacup, blowing across the surface lightly before she sipped it. She sat back against the sofa and crossed her legs, the towel riding up on her thighs.

He looked up from cutting his steak and saw her leaning back, her eyes closed. "Are you sleeping?"

Her head shook and she smiled, opening her eyes slowly. "No. I'm just thinking."

"About what?" he asked as he put down his silverware and pushed the cart aside.

"This and that."

"This and that?" He kneeled in front of her, his hands resting on her thighs.

Olivia sat up and placed a kiss on his mouth. "Yes. This and that…and how I think I've fallen in love with you."

Her hand was cool against his cheek and he saw the hope flash in her eyes. "That's a relief," he said softly as he took her hand, "because I've already fallen in love with you."

She sobbed slightly through a smile and rested her forehead against his. "I _was_ an adorable little girl."

Gregory chuckled knowingly as she slid off the sofa and kneeled in front of him, the cotton of her towel rubbing against the silk of his robe. "I knew it all along." He cupped her cheek and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too." She sighed happily as his arms went around her, hugging her to him. "I love you," she repeated. "I love you. I love you."


	24. Summer's End

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 24: "Summer's End"

The sheer curtains stirred as Olivia pushed them apart and walked into the house from the patio. She clutched one of the fluffy white towels around her body and the black bandeau bikini. _The weather is going_, she reflected. September was on its way out and the autumn weather of October was around the corner. It wasn't a drastic change in temperature, just a few degrees. Rather it symbolized the end of another lazy summer. Olivia spent more time volunteering at the hospital during the fall and winter months because the idea of tanning and swimming in December was still too foreign of a concept for her. England was still in her blood though she had lived in California for six years.

With October though came another opportunity to see Gregory. Just thinking of him brought a smile to her face. He loved her. She quickly brought her fingers to her lips and hid her smile behind them. Suspicion was a burden she could live without for the moment.

The leather armchair was cool against her exposed skin as she sat down and rested her head against the back. Gregory loved her. And she loved him, of that she was sure. From the moment she met Gregory, he had sparked something deep within her. He woke her from the deep sleep she had been living through. Stumbling through life as AJ's wife, one day lulling into the next.

"You take your tea with two sugars and your coffee the same way, except you add a splash of milk. You always lay on my left when we're in bed together. When you're nervous, you bite the right corner of your lip. And when you're embarrassed, you bite your lip and blush…Just like you're doing now. And when you smile, your face scrunches up and your eyes…Your eyes just light up your face."

She had always felt his eyes on her. Watching her, running over her body from the very first moment they met. She never imagined he was studying her so intensely. Memorizing every expression that graced her face. Every action she made recorded in his mind. Never before had she been the subject of such scrutiny.

Never before had she been loved this way.

He loved her.

Olivia's lips again curled up in a smile. She had been repeating those words all week. Those three small words that held such meaning. He. Loved. Her. She giggled and curled deeper into the armchair.

"Ma chere, you have been positively radiant all week." She opened her eyes and sat up as Armando took a seat in the armchair across from her. "It's been a refreshing change from the malaise that has hung over the house since AJ's business problems last month." He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs, folding his hands in his lap. "But then again, you've always been a bright light in this dark house. Un souffle d'air frais."

"Merci." Olivia leaned forward and asked, "Is anything the matter?"

"Matter?" Armando shook his head. "Not at all. My son is single handedly destroying the company that I spent the better part of my adult life building. But other than that I'm- How do you say? Peachy?" He sighed heavily after she nodded. "And the doctors wonder why my blood pressure is so high."

"No one foresaw this coming," she said softly.

"There is a lot that no one foresaw."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged innocently. "So often, we jump head first into something and anticipate how it will all pan out. How we'll manage. Rarely does anything ever go the way we've planned. Or hoped. Fate has other things in store for us." He uncrossed his legs and leaned in closer to Olivia. He reached across the coffee table and took her hand. "I couldn't love you anymore," he said softly, "than if you were my own child." Olivia squeezed his hand as he continued, "And I was so happy when AJ brought you home for the first time. You were so…independent and spirited. And lovely. So lovely." He let go of her hand and stood up, his hands deep in his pockets.

Olivia watched him turn away, his forehead furrowed in thought and his mouth turned down in a frown. She followed him across the room to the patio door and placed her hands on his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Armando turned around, his frown lifted into a sad smile. "I was the one who encouraged AJ to propose to you. Did you know that?" Olivia shook her head. "I had hoped that all those qualities I so admired in you would rub off onto AJ. And I think now that perhaps that was a bit selfish of me."

"Selfish?"

He cupped her cheek and whispered, "Because I know now that my son has not made you happy."

Olivia gasped softly and turned away. With shaking hands, she tightened the towel around her body. "How…?"

He gently turned her back to him. "Ma chere, all anyone has to do is look at you. Really look at you. These last few months, there's been such bliss about you. Something I hadn't seen in you since before you married my son. And I wondered, how could I not have noticed before?" He chucked her chin and sighed sadly. "But you've gotten good at that, haven't you ma chere? You've made an art out of masking your unhappiness." Her eyes narrowed as she glanced away. "It'll be two years this December that you've lived this way."

"Please stop," she whispered. She raised her eyes as her chin quivered. "Please stop."

"Oh ma chere," Armando said as he hugged her to him. His hand moved in slow circles on her back. "I'm not judging you." With his arm around Olivia's shoulders, he walked back to the sofa and sat down next to her. He encased her hands within his and continued, "I just- I just wanted to apologize."

"You don't have-"

"I do," he insisted. "Especially now that I see what happiness does to you. What love does to you."

Olivia looked up from her lap slowly and into Armando's eyes. "Armando," she began.

He squeezed her hands gently. "You don't need to waste your breath by denying it. Like unhappiness before, love is written all over your face. And I know it isn't my son that is inspiring those feelings. And that," he sighed as she looked away, "is why I have to apologize. If I had not- well…If it were not for my encouragement, perhaps you would be free now to celebrate your newfound love." With a crooked index finger, he turned her face back to him. "Je suis desole, ma chere. I am so sorry."

She shook her head. "I'm the one that sh-"

"You have no need to apologize to me." Armando squeezed her hand once more before letting it go. "I still love you like my own." Olivia swallowed a sob as her father-in-law stood up. "Don't shy from love, ma chere. Follow your heart…even if it takes you down another path. True love," he said softly, "comes along only once in a lifetime. Don't turn your back on it. Run to it and embrace it. And when you do, never let go." He bent down and kissed the top of Olivia's head. "Never let it go."

Olivia sat silently on the sofa and watched Armando's back retreat out of the room. She pulled her knees up to her chest and sighed. "If only it were that easy," she whispered. "If only it were that easy." She sighed once more before standing up and leaving the room.

When the room emptied and stillness reigned once again, Julianna stepped into the room from the patio. Her normally blue eyes blazed black with unbridled anger as she crossed slowly to the sofa where her husband and daughter-in-law sat together a moment ago. She sat down gently and rubbed her hands over the tops of her thighs before resting on her knees. Her jaw clenched and she hissed, "You'll pay for this. For making my son a cuckold, you will pay dearly."


	25. The Unsavoriness of People

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 25: "The Unsavoriness of People"

The line of people outside the nightclub, _Cloud 9_, watched in silent envy as the long black limousine glided to a stop. Loud synthesized music blared out from the doors along with sporadic flashes of multicolored light. The front passenger door opened and the dance happy people in the line watched as a man in a dark three-piece suit stepped out. The blond in the tight red dress at the head of the line snickered. No way would the square in the suit be allowed in. Not if Tito had his say.

Tito stood ramrod straight in the doorway, his legs parted slightly and his thick arms folded across his broad chest. The blond eyed Tito as The Suit walked right up to him, falling just a few inches short of Tito's six and a half feet. The bouncer glared down at The Suit, his lips curling up in a growl when the shorter man reached into his breast pocket. The random bursts of light allowed Tito to see the flash of green in The Suit's hand. The Suit pressed the wad of bills into Tito's outstretched hand. He fingered the bundle of cash before tucking it inside the waistband of his pants. Where a moment ago his lips were curling into a sneer, Tito smirked as he bent down and unhooked the velvet rope.

The blond in the red dress elbowed her boyfriend in the gut as The Suit disappeared into _Cloud 9_. "You got any money?" she demanded. When he shook his head apologetically, she crossed her arms and sighed in disgust.

Inside, a cascade of sparkling light shimmered over the people on the crowded dance floor. A large disco ball rotated lazily, reflecting the different colored spotlights hanging from the ceiling. The Suit blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light change. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a semi-crushed carton of cigarettes and a silver lighter. With the cigarette dangling from his lips, the lighter clicked on and he took a long drag as he held the tip to the flame. A petite brunette with long hair and even longer legs tilted her head and smiled at him. He winked at her before sauntering off to the bar. The music was so loud it throbbed in his chest. Gray smoke tapered out of his mouth as he searched the faces of those standing at the bar.

And there he was. Leaning against the bar as if he hadn't a care in the world. The Suit walked closer, shaking his head. The man's hand drifted down from the bar to cup the rear of the woman he was chatting with. The Suit rolled his brown eyes as the man's head bent down to the woman's ear.

Plucking the cigarette from his lips, The Suit clasped the man's shoulder with his free hand. "Mr. Douglas…How are you this evening?"

Del pushed away from the woman and looked warily at The Suit. He straightened his back so that he could use his full height to his advantage and swayed slightly. With effort, he smirked and wrapped his arm around the woman's waist. "On my way," he slurred, "to having a rewarding evening." His would be paramour tossed her sandy colored hair over her shoulder and giggled as Del squeezed her side.

The Suit exhaled a thin stream of smoke that hit Del directly in the face. "Very good, Mr. Douglas. My employer wishes to have a word with you."

He may as well have said the Grim Reaper wanted a word with him. Del's arm fell away from the woman and he waved her away. "Take a walk darlin'." The Suit smirked as Del nervously twisted his hands and smoothed down his hair. "Now?"

"Now."

Del nodded and followed The Suit out of the club. Feeling instantly sobered, he anxiously smoothed out his silk shirt. His sweaty palms dampened the imported Italian material and he muttered a curse under his breath.

The street was cool and quiet compared to the inside of _Cloud 9_. The Suit held open the back door of the limousine and Del gulped at the looming dark interior, but climbed in after a moment's hesitation. With a resounding slam, the car door closed. As he walked around to the front passenger side, The Suit smiled at blatant fear etched on Del's face.

As Del settled on the leather-cushioned seat, he felt the car wheels grind forward and he looked up just in time to see the club and line of people roll away as the limousine accelerated. He nervously drummed his fingers atop his knee and he forced his eyes to look at the person sitting across from him. "Evenin', Miz Deschanel."

"Mr. Douglas."

He flinched at the curtness of Julianna's greeting. _An ice bitch rarely gives anything warm_, he reflected. "What can I do you for?"

Julianna's blue eyes narrowed. "Try not to be so crude, Mr. Douglas." Small triumph sprang up within her after Del nodded nervously. Her nose wrinkled as the musky scent of his nerves perfumed the backseat. She rolled the window down half an inch, her long and slender fingers curling around the metal handle. "I thought we'd go for a drive."

Del fidgeted uncomfortably in the seat and glanced behind him at the privacy divider. It was up, as usual. "How can I be of your _assistance_ this time, Miz Deschanel?" _The sight of old Julianna smiling is truly terrifying_, he decided. Though the smile never quite reached her lips, the curve of her mouth was more menacing than friendly. He felt his hand spasm nervously in his lap and in that moment, he would've sold his soul and his sister to Lucifer himself in exchange for a steadying sip of scotch. His dry tongue ran over his parched lips unconsciously as he imagined the strong alcohol running down his throat and-

"Do keep up, Mr. Douglas," Julianna sighed. "I'm in no mood for games."

_No kidding_, Del thought as he nodded. _At least not the kind of games I'm fond of_. Not that he wanted to play _those_ sort of games with Julianna Deschanel. He hadn't consumed nearly enough alcohol for that endeavor. And even then, he still wasn't sure he'd be able to manage.

"What I need from you," Julianna continued, "is a name." She reached up and snapped on the interior light on the roof.

"Name? You mean of a person?"

"You _are_ quick, Mr. Douglas. I knew my husband was wrong in his estimation of you." She picked up her long cigarette holder and lit the cigarette, ignoring the deep shade of red that flushed across Del's face in the dim light. "I need the name of a character even less…_unsavory_ then yourself."

Del cleared his throat as Julianna blew a line of smoke from her mouth. "Now, uh, just how unsavory are we talkin'?" Her eyebrow arched tellingly and a smug smile spread across his face. "_That_ unsavory? Well hell," he chuckled, "that's going to cost you."

"Why am I not surprised?" Julianna muttered. "Greed will get you nowhere, Mr. Douglas."

"Comin' from you, that's a joke," he mumbled under his breath. She eyed him sharply and he covered, "Can't get somethin' for nothin', Miz Deschanel. Everything's got a price. You should remember from the last time."

She reached into the patent leather purse that sat next to her and tossed Del a thick envelope. "That should wet your beak enough." She frowned as he eagerly ripped open the envelope and thumbed through the stack of hundred dollar bills.

"Why yes. Yes, I think this will do." He grinned and sat back in thought after he tucked the envelope into his back pocket. "Let's see, let's see." He snapped his fingers and leaned forward. "There's a guy I know, mean as all hell. He'd kill his own momma for a buck."

Julianna tapped her cigarette holder into the ashtray on the door and stabbed out the cigarette. "And how quickly can you get a hold of this gentleman?"

He chuckled. "A gentleman? Yeah, he's a real gentleman." The increasing sharpness of the long cigarette holder on the metal ashtray got Del's attention and he cleared his throat. "You give me the word and I can get him here in two days time."

"Arrange it." She leaned forward and knocked on the privacy divider. Within moments, the limousine ground to a halt and The Suit got out from the front seat. "Mr. Douglas will be contacting you in two days to arrange a meeting," she said to The Suit after he opened the back door and leaned down. He eyed Del severely before nodding at Julianna. She turned back to Del and smiled wickedly, her eyebrows rising into pointed arches. "Here's where you get out, Mr. Douglas."

A glare from The Suit got Del moving. He climbed out of the back and looked around before bending down to the open door. "But this is Ocean Highway. How am I going to get back to town?"

Julianna scoffed. "You'll find a way, Mr. Douglas. You always do." She nodded at The Suit, who closed the back door firmly.

Del backed away as The Suit got back into the limousine and it sped off into the night. As he watched the receding taillights, he reached around and pulled out the thick envelope. He tossed it jovially in the air. "Oh, Douglas," he squealed, "this has been your lucky night." He returned the envelope to his pocket and patted it once before turning and walking back down the road to Sunset Beach.


	26. Taxus Baccata

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 26: "Taxus Baccata"

By most people's standards, Mickey Donahue was a degenerate. Having never completed high school, he spent his free time hunting game in the forests in his native West Virginia. Locals in the small town of Hickory who knew Mickey since he was in diapers whispered behind their hands that he was a bad apple. Others whispered he was a mean hunter who often wounded the deer and left them for dead without harvesting the meat. Killing for sport. For years, the staff at the _Division of Natural Resources_ had tried in vain to get Mickey's hunting license revoked. But they could never locate anyone willing to attest to his sadistic nature. It was suspected that the reluctant witnesses feared the way Mickey methodically sharpened the knife that was holstered around his thigh. His pale blue eyes would glint over as he tested the sharpness of the blade on his index finger, never flinching at the thin trail of blood left in its wake.

It was to the great relief of the _Division of Natural Resources _that Mickey was eventually arrested, but not because of any violations against his hunting license. Rather, he was arrested for killing his high school sweetheart, Amber Jones. The citizens of Hickory whispered that Amber was leaving Mickey because she had taken up with the owner of the local bowling alley. Only after the district attorney agreed to a plea bargain and accepted his plea of temporary insanity did Mickey admit to strangling Amber. As an afterthought, he expressed his disappointment that his girlfriend died so quickly for the feeling of her life slipping away beneath his hands was a pleasant one. He was sentenced to serve the rest of his life in a state mental hospital. His public defender congratulated himself on a case well done.

With Mickey out of commission, the quiet West Virginia town of Hickory returned to a relative calm. Hunting season came and went each year without incident. Fathers felt their daughters would be safe at the movies without the leering eyes of Mickey watching them. The residents of Hickory breathed easier and after four years, many came to forget Mickey Donahue ever existed.

And then, one blistery December morning, word reached the sheriff in Hickory that Mickey escaped from the mental hospital. A nurse and two security guards were dead. The citizens were in a panic. They were not ready to give up the safety they had for the four years Mickey was locked away. The town came to a virtual standstill as parents yanked their children out of school and businesses closed early. Houses were locked tight and coffee was brewed for the family member chosen to sit up all night with the loaded double barrel shotgun.

As the wind howled against the windowpanes, the phone lines buzzed through the town. Susan, the reverend's wife, believed that the youngest Donahue only turned out the way he did because he could never keep his eyes open during Sunday school. Big Mal, the mechanic, vowed to launch a volunteer squad if Mickey wasn't found by morning. Sheriff Thayer begged the citizens of Hickory to stay indoors and in the event that Mickey Donahue was spotted, to not approach him and to call the police. With a blizzard raging outside, the lights in the small town went out one by one and the citizens bedded down for the night.

The next morning, Hickory awoke to the glare of the sun reflecting off the snow-covered ground. Cautiously, the paper blinds were raised and people peered out of their windows. The streets were quiet and deserted. No footprint tracks were found. The snow was undisturbed.

Except at two homes.

At two homes, the white blanket of snow was stained red. Patches of snow were dimpled; the deep footprints partially filled after the person leaving them had departed. The heavy smell of death was in the air. When Sheriff Thayer arrived at the trailer belonging to the owner of the bowling alley and the small house of the public defender, he had to turn away from the grotesquely mutilated bodies. The amount of spilled blood both in and out of the homes suggested the attacks had been unmerciful and most likely prolonged. Sheriff Thayer bent over, dry heaves racking his body as his deputy said aloud, "Well, at least we know he's gone. He's settled his account. There's no reason for him to come back."

And he didn't.

The warm October breeze stirred Mickey's stringy dirty blond hair as he stood on the bluff overlooking the water of the Pacific. The full silver moon overhead bathed the deserted highway in light and he propped his leg on the boulder to his right. Nearly one hundred feet below him, he heard the foaming waves breaking on the pointed rocks rising from the ocean.

As he picked a bit of leftover dinner from his teeth, he heard a car approaching from the road. The bright lights from the car swept across the bit of ground in front of him and a moment later, the engine cut off. A car door opened and the low drone of the open door alert filled his ears. He turned around slowly and appraised the trio walking towards him.

"Hey man, I'm De-," the oaf in the polyester pants and silk shirt open practically to his navel said as he held out his hand.

Mickey looked down at Del's outstretched hand and turned away, a wad of spit flying out from his mouth to the ground. "No names," he growled. He shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his worn jeans as Julianna nodded at The Suit.

Del jumped when he felt the hand clamp down on his shoulder. He looked questioningly at The Suit and cringed as the hand clenched his shoulder. "Uh, yeah. I'm just going to go wait in the car." He rolled his newly freed shoulder and slunk back to the limousine, his head hung.

Mickey eyed The Suit and asked Julianna, "He ok?"

"Perfectly." Julianna stepped closer and grimaced at the mix of body odor, urine, and sweat emanating from Mickey. "I was assured that-"

"Lady, I could give two figs about what you were assured." The Suit took a warning step closer to Mickey, his eyebrows wrinkled in a glare. Mickey ignored him and fingered the handle of the knife holstered to his leg. "You need something done, I'll take care of it. Half now, half when it's finished. Plus, any expenses I might rack up."

Julianna sniffed and discreetly waved The Suit to take a step back. "That seems reasonable." She reached into her clutch and removed a thick envelope. "I believe you'll agree that is more than sufficient."

Mickey felt the envelope and tucked it inside his leather jacket. "So, whatcha need done? Better yet, _who_ you want done?"

"That is no concern of yours," Julianna snapped.

Mickey shrugged. "Whatever lady."

"What I need for you to do is procure a stimulant that will bring about instantaneous and painful death." Her eyes narrowed as Mickey chuckled and stabbed the ground with the toe of his combat boot.

"Lady, lady…I'm just a po' boy from West Virginny," he snickered, laying on his thick rural accent. "No need to go usin' all them big words."

The Suit reached and grabbed onto the lapels of Mickey's jacket, dragging their faces within inches of each other's. "Poison. English Yew, also known as Taxus Baccata." He let go of the jacket and threw Mickey back. The younger man's pale blue eyes flashed as he stumbled but remained upright. The Suit reached into the pocket of his own coat and passed Mickey a second envelope. "There's a plane ticket, fake passport, and several thousand American dollars in there. Don't return without the merchandise. If you're caught or stopped at customs, you're on your own."

Mickey snatched the envelope from The Suit's hand. "I don't get caught." He opened the flap and struggled to read the fine print on the plane ticket. "England?" he asked.

"Of course," Julianna murmured. "Where else would you get English Yew?"

Mickey shoved the second envelope in with the first one. "I'll contact you when I get back."

"Don't bother," The Suit said pointedly, "we'll know. And _we'll_ contact you." He stepped closer and slapped Mickey's sallowed cheek playfully. "We want the Yew in liquid form. Bring back as much as you can buy. And," he added as his nose wrinkled, "due manage to take a bath before you come back. We don't want any undue attention." He smirked once more at Mickey before turning and following Julianna back to the limousine.

"How long will it take him?" Julianna asked softly.

"A few weeks, at the minimum." The Suit glanced back quickly at Mickey. "If he's as good as they say, he'll lie low for awhile so as not to attract the interest of the authorities." He reached down for the door handle and startled when Julianna put her hand over his.

"It's ironic, don't you think? English Yew being used against those who betrayed my son." Her lips curled up in a half smile. "Repplier was right. Irony _does_ bring a deeper and less friendly understanding." She turned to The Suit and whispered, "Pity it has to be so painful though."


	27. Le Bebe

****

NOTE: This chapter is RATED ADULT for sexual content.

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 27: "Le Bebe"

Olivia's heels dug into Gregory's lower back as she further clenched her legs around his waist. Her hips rose to meet him as he embedded himself deeper in her. He pinned her wrists above her head with his hands as they locked eyes.

"God," she moaned as his head bent and he ran his tongue teasingly across her breast. Blue eyes flashed as he released her hands and they immediately found their way to his head. Her fingers ran through his hair as she drew his face to hers.

Gregory allowed her to crush their lips together and was rewarded a moment later with the gentle pressure of her tongue against his. He pulled away and moved lower, to the soft flesh of her neck.

Olivia's fingertips streaked across his back as she pressed him closer to her. Warm pleasure shot up from her hips and she heard the breath catch in his throat. He pressed his cheek against hers as lost himself in her, her name falling from his lips. As she arched her back, his ear still near her mouth, she whispered, "I love you."

Their bodies lay still, her legs still locked around his waist. Gregory looked down at her, a drop of sweat falling from his eyebrow to her lips. Slowly, he lowered his mouth and trailed his tongue lightly across her lips. She stifled a giggle as her legs fell away and he slid off her. Her body rolled into his embrace and she closed her eyes.

His hand ran through her long hair, brushing out the loose curls damp with sweat. After several lengths, his movements slowed to a stop and his arm fell over her shoulder. He sighed and pulled her closer as his eyes fell shut. As his mind grew dark, he smiled softly when he felt Olivia kiss his shoulder. "Love you too, Liv," he murmured.

The sharp ringing of the telephone drowned out her soft reply. Olivia leaned back as Gregory sat up and reached for the phone with an annoyed sigh. She smiled guiltily and reached out to gently touch the angry red scratch her fingernails left on his back.

Gregory glanced over his shoulder and winked at her as he held the phone to his ear. He sat up straighter and scooted over to the edge of the bed when he heard the voice on the other end. "Hello Mother." He turned around and reached for Olivia's hand, giving it a slight squeeze as he continued, "How are you?"

With her free hand, Olivia propped the pillow behind her and reclined against the headboard. The silk sheet draped over her chest and across to Gregory as he laid back down on the bed and smiled up at her. Their linked hands rested under his chin and she squirmed as he kissed her knuckle and said into the phone, "Oh really? When?" He smiled up at Olivia's questioning eyes as he released her hand and stroked her palm. "Extend my congratulations to Bill and Madeline. Yes, yes…I'll be home in two days. Yes," he laughed into the phone, "I love you too Mother. Goodbye."

Olivia waited until a chuckling Gregory hung up the phone. She scooted down the silk sheet and propped her head up. "You love a lot of women," she teased.

He grabbed her hips and tickled her waist, causing her to scream with unbridled laughter. "Only two. _And_," he said loudly over her squeal, "I don't love my mother the same way I love you."

Gasping for breath, she sat back up and pulled the sheet up to her chin. "Tha- That's good," she breathed. "I never should've told you how ticklish I was."

Gregory pulled her back down to him, his arm cushioning her head. "I would've found out on my own." Her sigh of resignation caused him to press his lips to her forehead. "Poor Olivia," he mocked.

She smacked her hand against his chest playfully and turned onto her side, propping her head with her bent arm. "So, who are Bill and Madeline?"

He chuckled and draped his arm over the rise of her hip. "Bill, really William, is my older brother. Madeline, his wife, just gave birth to their third child about," he trailed off as he craned his neck back to the clock, "an hour ago."

Olivia smiled broadly, her blue eyes flashing in amusement. "Oh…What did they name him? Or her?"

"_Her_ name is Audrey Miranda. She's their third daughter."

"What a sweet name. Do you have a lot of nieces and nephews?"

His finger trailed along the skin of her waist as he nodded. "She's the seventh."

With a happy sigh, Olivia laid down on her back. She reached for Gregory's hand and covered it with her own. He moved closer to her and nuzzled his face in her fragrant hair. "How lucky you are to have such a big family," she said softly.

"I suppose," Gregory said distractedly as he bent his lips to the base of her throat. She gasped and pushed him away gently. "Ticklish there too?" he asked with a smirk.

She shook her head and wrapped her arm around his neck. "I want to know about your family."

"Of all the things to talk about," he groaned. His frown met her pleading blue eyes. The longer he stared into them, the harder it was to say no. And she knew it as the innocent batting of her eyelashes proved. "Oh alright," he sighed to her victorious smile. "What do you want to know?" He sat back against the headboard and smiled softly as she settled against his chest.

"Tell me about you and your brothers," Olivia said as he wrapped his arms across her chest. She tilted her head back to look up at him.

"I'm the youngest. Max has twelve years on me, Bill has nine." He paused for a moment before adding, "I had an older sister. Abigail."

"What happened to her?" she asked in a whisper.

"She drowned in our swimming pool when she was very small." Gregory watched as Olivia turned around, her blue eyes brimming with unshed emotion. "It's alright," he said quickly. "I never knew her." He pulled Olivia back to his chest. "I don't think my parents were really planning on me."

"Well," Olivia said with a grin, "I'm glad they did have you." She closed her eyes and asked, "Are you close to them?"

"My parents?"

"No, your brothers."

Gregory bent his legs over Olivia's, the sheet rising like a tent in front of them. "Max feels he has a lot to prove to our father. He can be…_difficult_ to get along with. Bill is more easygoing. You'd like him."

"And your parents-"

"Are a topic to be saved for another afternoon entirely." He chuckled when Olivia turned around, her lips bent in a frown. "What? I must be boring you."

"You aren't. And did you forget that I asked?" She untangled her legs from his and knelt in between them. "Being an only child was lonely. I can only imagine how nice it must have been to grow up with siblings." Her frown deepened after Gregory shrugged. "Well, I think it must have been nice."

"I can think of nicer things to talk about."

Olivia titled her head and raised her eyebrow indulgently. "Like what?"

"You," he smiled.

It was Olivia's turn to groan as she hung her head and pulled her closer. She shook her head at the amusement in his eyes. "You _always_ want to talk about me."

Gregory ignored the embarrassed flush of her cheeks as he picked up her hand and kissed the underside of her wrist. "Don't you know by now that I can talk to you about you forever and never be tired of it?"

"I do now," she mumbled.

He titled her chin up and kissed her lips softly. "Never be tired of it," he repeated.


	28. All of Them Men

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 28: "All of Them Men"

William Richards stood silently in the door of his younger brother's office. Gregory's feet were propped casually on the edge of his desk, a voluminous file in his lap. More piles of papers were scattered across the leather blotter and a cast off gold pen lay just within his reach. The file though couldn't have been that interesting because rather than looking down at it, Gregory's gaze looked left out the large window to the East River.

"The river that interesting?" William asked as he sank into one of the leather chairs across from his brother.

"Bill." Gregory's half smile disappeared as quick as it appeared and he closed the file before sitting up. "Not really." He looked up at the soft sound of his brother's lighter clicking over.

Bill gestured at the lit cigarette as he pulled a small crystal ashtray out of his pocket. "Brought my own ashtray," he smirked. "Madeline has prohibited me from smoking in the house now that the baby's arrived."

The chair creaked slightly as Gregory leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on the armrest. "I can see you're really suffering at home Bill. What will she think of next? A dry house?"

"God man, don't even joke. At the end of the day, I enjoy a stiff drink." He crossed his legs and inhaled deeply as Gregory chuckled and rubbed his eyes. "You need new reading material."

"I've been reading the same proposal for the last-," he sighed as he glanced at the antique pocket watch in the corner of his desk, "-for the last hour and a half." He stacked the papers into a single pile and shoved it to the side. "I'm sick of work."

Bill's gasp suggested it was more mocking than genuine. "I'm sorry- What? Gregory Richards, sick of work? Say it ain't so!"

"Everyone gets burnt out," Gregory said softly, a quiet statement that managed to silence his brother's rolling laughter.

"Bound to happen sooner or later," the elder Richards conceded. "You've been working non-stop since the day you got your MBA. Did you even attend the commencement ceremony?"

Gregory shook his head. "I came to the office instead."

With more force than he intended to use, Bill stabbed out his cigarette and pushed the crystal ashtray away. "And therein lies my point: you've always been at the office." He rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned in. "I should tell you now that I've been sent by Mother." He ignored his younger brother's disbelieving chuckle and continued, "She's concerned…and so am I."

Gregory's brown eyes flashed in surprise. "Why? Her I can understand; she's _always_ concerned. But why are you?"

"Come on Greg," Bill sighed, "you're practically living here. Gladys wants to know if she should start unfolding a spare bed in the corner before she leaves at night." Against his brother's frown, he said, "You're here more than your apartment."

"What do I have there?" Gregory kicked his armchair to the side and turned away. "I live in the 'black hole of Calcutta'."

After several moments silence, Bill sat back and appraised his brother. Was that sadness in his voice? "Well, this is a day for surprises. First your dissatisfaction with the office and now your social life." His brother glared at him but remained silent. "You've never been without a girlfriend," Bill stated. "To say there was a new girl every week would be a grotesque understatement." He reached into his coat pocket for his carton of cigarettes and pulled one out with his lips before flicking back the lighter. "Except recently. You've practically dropped off the social scene these past few months." Gregory's sudden and pointed look caused Bill to toss the lighter aside and sit back in his chair. "You've met someone," he said quietly as a stream of smoke snaked out from his lips.

* * *

Olivia tossed her dog-eared copy of Madame Bovary aside after the title character consumed a fatal dose of arsenic. She sighed sadly and sat back on the sofa, taking off her reading glasses and hanging them from the collar of her blouse. _Extramarital affairs always meant certain death in literature_, she mused silently. _Flaubert, Tolstoy, Shakespeare, Chekhov_... "All men," she sighed with a grimace. She picked up the thick book and ran her fingers lightly over the worn binding. "What lessons can I learn from you?" she whispered to the novel. 

Therese cleared her throat and knocked softly against the doorframe. "Excuse me," she called softly as Olivia looked up, "but you said you wanted to know when Monsieur Deschanel took his lunch."

Olivia nodded and stood up, knotting her hair loosely at the base of her head. "Yes. Thank you Therese." She left Emma Bovary behind as she followed the maid down the hall. As Therese reached down for the tray resting on the bottom step, Olivia put her hand on her shoulder. "I'll take it up to him." Therese stepped back and watched Olivia walk slowly up the curved staircase, the tray tight in her grasp.

Armando's room stood at the opposite end of the hallway from her own bedroom. She passed Julianna's room with barely a glance, the door firmly closed. With a deep breath, she stepped into Armando's room as her eyes furiously adjusted to the pitch-black atmosphere. Though it was just past noon, the room was shrouded in darkness. She quietly placed the tray on Armando's nightstand and walked across to the glass doors, pulling back the thick curtains a bit. The noon sun bathed the room but did nothing to warm Armando's pallid complexion.

She bit her lip and walked back around to the bed, sitting on the edge and taking Armando's still hand in her own. She stared at Armando, wondering when he aged so quickly. Deep wrinkles ran across his face, a map of the world written there. As she rubbed her hand over his, he opened his eyes slowly. "Lunch," she whispered with a bright smile.

He pushed himself up slowly, shaking off her hand of assistance. "A pillow s'il vous plait, ma chere," he said breathlessly as he collapsed against the carved headboard.

Olivia wedged one of his many pillows in between his back and the bed before reaching down and tucking one under his feet. As she uncrossed his feet, she said, "You know the doctor said not to do that. It cuts off the circulation." She paused, waiting for his usual statement of independence and frowned when it didn't come. After tucking the thick blanket around him, she placed the tray in between them. "Vegetable soup," she explained, "and it's not too thick, so you won't have any trouble swallowing." She blew on the steaming spoon and held it up to him.

Armando held up his hand weakly as Olivia returned the spoon for a second taste. "What I wouldn't do for a bit of foie gras."

She shook her head indulgently and offered him more soup. "Do you know what they do to those poor geese to get you your foie gras?"

As Olivia reached for the napkin to wipe his chin, Armando whispered, "Not really ma chere. Please don't be offended when I say I don't care."

His eyes twinkled in amusement, a rare occurrence since his doctor ordered him to bed rest, and caused her to giggle. "Alright, I'll let it go this time. But next time-," she promised with a smile as she held the spoon back to his lips.

"Next time," Armando repeated softly as he patted Olivia's hand. "Next time ma chere." He held up his hand again and shook his head. "No more. I can't…"

The spoon returned to the tray and Olivia pushed it aside. _Not even half the soup eaten_, she noted as she turned back to her father-in-law with a smile.

Armando gestured to the stack of newspapers spread out next to him. "Read to an old man. Lull him back to sleep with your soothing voice."

She reached across him for the paper on top, knowing it wasn't her oratory skills he sought. Rather, he needed her eyes to do the job that his could no longer do. The fine print of the newspaper was too much of a strain for him, even with his glasses. Back her reading glasses went to her face as she opened the first section and began to read aloud. "The High Court ruled yesterday that-"

* * *

Gregory stood up abruptly, reaching for a glass at the small bar. The scotch splashed into the crystal and he swallowed it quickly. He poured himself another before walking behind Bill to close his office door. 

As he returned to the large chair behind his desk, Bill smirked, "I'm going to take that as a yes."

Sipping the scotch didn't hide Gregory's smile. He nodded and set the glass on his desk. "It's a yes."

"Well then, don't just sit there…Tell me all about her."

Eager for the chance to finally talk to someone about Olivia, Gregory leaned forward and rested his arms on the desk. "She's…incredible," he sighed. "She's everything I want- and more! So much more! She's _everything_."

Bill smiled at the animation dancing across his younger brother's face. "Greg, I never thought I'd see the day. If I didn't know you better, I'd compare you to a giddy school boy."

Gregory frowned and shook his head. "This is no school boy romance. I- I love her." He watched as the hand holding the cigarette fell slowly from Bill's mouth. "I love her," he repeated for emphasis. He smiled in embarrassment at Bill's shock and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "That shocking?"

With a long drag on his cigarette, Bill recovered from his brother's declaration and shook his head. "I just- You never seemed to stay with a woman long enough to fall in love with her." He tilted his head in thought and asked, "Who is she? God, not the Hartford girl that Mother is still complaining about?"

"God no," Gregory said with a shudder. "I met her in California."

"Ah ha!" Bill exclaimed as he jumped up. "Now we know why you've been going to the Coast so dutifully for your Deschanel meetings each month." He smacked his hand on the desk and missed his brother's sharp glance. He smiled down at his brother as he relaxed back into his seat. "When's she coming out- What?" Bill asked as his brother's expression grew hard.

"She isn't."

"Why?"

"Unavoidable _circumstances_."

"Such as?" Bill wondered aloud as he smoked his cigarette down to the filter and put it out in the ashtray.

"Her husband, for one." Gregory turned away from his brother and stood in front of the window.

"Ahhh, that is a problem." Bill sighed and followed his brother over to the window, clasping his shoulder and turning him around. "She loves you?"

Gregory's broad smile was a sufficient answer but he nodded anyway and replied, "So she tells me."

"And you love her?"

He leaned back against the ledge and nodded again. "More than I ever thought I could love a woman."

Bill smiled knowingly and leaned back against Gregory's desk. The two brothers mirrored each other, hands deep in their pockets and eyes locked. "And her husband?"

"A non issue," Gregory stated with a tad more confidence than he felt. For up until now, AJ had been a subject he rarely spoke of when with Olivia. Was her husband really that much of a pushover that he'd just let her go? _No matter_, he thought, _she's worth fighting for_.

"And you want her?"

Gregory's head went back with a laugh. "What is this 'Twenty Questions'? Yes, I want her." The laughter faded away as he grew serious. "I've never wanted anyone else," he said softly.

"So tell her and bring her back with you. What are you waiting for?"

What was he waiting for? He should have taken Olivia back to New York with him the second she admitted she loved him. He smiled without realizing it as the image of Olivia stowing away in his luggage as she flew East with him entered his mind. "I'm not anymore."

"Good." Bill smacked his brother's arm playfully before pulling him into an embrace. "I'm happy for you," he said as they broke away. "It's a good look for you."

"What is?" Gregory asked as they both returned to their seats.

"Love." Gregory eyed him over his glass as he swallowed the rest of his scotch. "You know, I'm really glad I came today."

"How come?"

"Otherwise, you would've been stuck with Max. He was Mother's runner up choice."

"God," Gregory sighed with the roll of his eyes.

"Well, I'm off," Bill said with an amused grin as he stood up. "Heading home early."

Gregory followed his brother out of the office and down the hall to the elevators. "I didn't even ask…How is the baby?"

Bill pushed the down button and grinned at Gregory as the doors whooshed open. "Three weeks old and she's already a heartbreaker." He walked into the carriage pushed the button for the garage level. " We're going to see Madeline's parents in Connecticut this weekend, but you should come out next weekend. You haven't seen Audrey since she came home from the hospital."

He shook his head. "Can't. I'll be in California."

Bill winked and called out as the doors started to close, "That's the only excuse I'll let you get away with this time. Have a good time!"

Gregory turned away after the doors closed and walked slowly back to his office, feeling more optimistic than he had in months. The weeks in between seeing Olivia were often cloaked in melancholy, only lifting as he flew westward. "I plan to," he whispered to himself.


	29. Checkmate

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 29: "Checkmate"

The slender vial caught the sunlight and the clear liquid inside sparkled. Julianna wrapped her fingers around it, closing her eyes against the feeling of the cool glass. The poison sloshed against the rubber stopper and she opened her eyes slowly as she turned her palm over. With a steady slowness, she returned the vial to the small wood box Mickey delivered it in.

She walked over to the door that linked her bedroom with Armando's and peered in through the crack. He sat in the armchair, the mid afternoon sunlight falling on him as he played chess with Olivia. From what Julianna could tell, he was winning. No great surprise there. Olivia didn't know the first thing about chess, yet she always played when Armando asked. Julianna wondered if the string of losses told Olivia anything. She doubted it.

But the weeks of round the clock bed rest and medication had worked. Armando's cheeks held a rosy glow and his appetite had returned with a vengeance. Just in time to grace the dinner table last week to celebrate Olivia's birthday. He always did have a soft spot for her. _Pity_, Julianna thought to herself. She watched silently as a chuckling Armando checkmated Olivia.

"Checkmate, ma chere," Julianna whispered to herself. She turned away from the door as Olivia packed the chess set away. "Checkmate indeed."

Julianna crossed back to the wood box. It creaked slightly as she opened the cover and took out the vial of poison for the last time. She uncorked it and held the open vial below her nose. No trace scent. Humming softly, she poured the contents into the cup of tea and used the now empty vial to stir it gently.

From the corner of the room, The Suit instructed, "Put it back in the box. I'll get rid of them both." He paused a moment before adding, "There's enough English Yew in there to kill a three hundred pound person in an hour, but make sure as much as possible is ingested."

Still humming, Julianna nodded and tossed the glass vial back in the box. She picked up the saucer and left the bedroom with barely a glance at the corner.

The Suit stood up from the Queen Anne chair after Julianna closed the door to the hallway behind herself. Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, wiped down the vial and the wood box. He wrapped both in the handkerchief and shoved the small lumpy package in his pocket. The Suit put his hands on the door and leaned against it, waiting and listening for the other shoe to drop.

* * *

Julianna closed her bedroom door and turned to Armando's bedroom. Steam wafted off the surface of the tea, twisting and snaking in the air. One hand on the doorknob, she stood poised and looked down at the tea cup and saucer in her other hand. It looked normal. Unsuspecting. 

"No, I'm sorry, Armando. I have an appointment," she heard Olivia say. She turned the handle and pushed her door open slightly as Olivia continued, "I'll beat you one of these days. We'll play again when I get back."

_No you won't_. Julianna tightened her grip around the saucer and closed the door firmly as Olivia walked out of Armando's room. She eyed her daughter in law as they walked closer to one and other.

"Julianna."

"Olivia." Her voice held the same measure of coldness it always did when addressing her daughter in law. "Going somewhere?" She watched Olivia's eyes and noted the way they hardened instinctively. _Stupid girl_, Julianna thought, _I already know how you've betrayed my son_. She watched Olivia with her eyes upturned as she blew lightly on the surface of the tea.

"Yes," Olivia said, her own tone reserved. "I have an appointment." She glanced back at Armando's room before turning again to Julianna. "He's resting."

"Is he now?" Julianna stepped aside as Olivia nodded and passed her. Before Olivia was just out of reach, Julianna's arm shot forward and grabbed onto her daughter in law's.

With a small cry of surprise, Olivia froze and turned around slowly. "What?" she asked.

Julianna's eyes flashed as she looked into Olivia's warm blue ones. "Enjoy your afternoon," she said quietly. "I'm going to take my tea in Armando's room."

"Fine." Shaking off her mother in laws iron grip, Olivia turned away and walked down the hallway. Before she turned to the stairs, she looked back for Julianna but she had already disappeared into Armando's room. She shook her head as she walked down the stairs and pushed all thoughts of her mother in law from her mind.

* * *

From Armando's room, Julianna heard the front door close behind Olivia. She smiled as she sat down in the armchair next to her husband and placed the tea on the small round table in between them. 

He took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. "I'm glad you came to sit with me, cheri."

Julianna forced a smile as Armando held her hand, his thumb rubbing across hers softly. "I am too darling. I can't tell you how relieved I am that you are feeling better."

Armando chuckled. "I have to admit that these doctors do know what they are doing. I haven't felt this good in months."

"That's wonderful." Julianna pulled her hand away from Armando's and looked pointedly at the ground.

"Julianna, is something the matter?" Armando asked, his tone dripping with concern.

She looked back at him and sat up straighter. Armando's eyes stared worriedly at her as she shook her head and picked up the tea cup. "Nothing darling. Here," she said as she passed him the cup, "I brought you some tea." He took the cup with a smile of thanks and the breath caught in her throat as he began to sip it gingerly. She got out of her chair and bent down, tucking the blanket around Armando's feet.

Armando watched the way her hands worked quickly, smoothing the thick blanket across his thighs. "Something is wrong," he noted as she stood up.

Looking down at him, Julianna smiled guiltily. "How can you tell?"

He took a long sip of the tea before he set it aside on the table. "I can read you like an open book," he said quietly with a small smile. "I've been watching you for years." He reached for Julianna's hand as she crouched in front of him.

"I- I'm worried." She bit the inside of her lip hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. The glistening brought the desired effect as Armando sat up and cupped Julianna's cheek. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes as a tear trailed down her face.

"About what?"

Julianna took a deep shuddering sigh and she forced her voice to quiver. "AJ." She wiped the tear away and said, "I'm worried about him."

Armando frowned as Julianna bent her blond head to his knees. He stroked her head lovingly as she sobbed and he struggled to stay calm. "Julianna, what do you mean? Has something happened to him?"

"Not yet," she whispered through a sob. She kept her head on her husband's lap and she smirked as she wiped at her eyes, smudging the mascara in a way that hot tears would. She looked back up at him, the smirk replaced by a scared frown. "But-" she broke off as she brought her hands to her face and sobbed into them. She felt Armando pulling her hands away and squeezing them tight within his own. She sniffled as he sat forward and drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her.

"But what?"

His hands rubbed her back soothingly and she sighed as she rested her head on Armando's shoulder. "Have you noticed anything odd about Olivia?" Julianna felt his hands freeze on her back and she pulled back, looking deep into his eyes.

Armando sat back in the overstuffed armchair, his expressions guarded. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously as he picked up the tea cup and took another sip.

Julianna watched silently as he continued to drink the tea, excitement bubbling up inside of her. "Always going off, not telling anyone where she's going." She stood up and backed away as Armando held the half empty cup in his lap. Taking a deep breath, she concluded, "I think she may be having an affair." Pause. "But I think you already suspected as much."

He looked down guiltily before admitting, "Yes, I did."

"You won't get absolution from the bottom of the tea cup, Armando," she said quietly. She knelt in front of him again as he met her eyes. "For choosing that slut over my son, you will not find mercy." She took the tea cup from Armando's trembling hands and noted the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Armando sighed and reached for Julianna. "Cheri, it did not happen like that…I only-"

"You nothing!" she hissed as she jumped away from him. "You practically told that whore that it was perfectly alright with you that she continue to see her lover." The tea sloshed over the side of the cup in her angry hand and pooled on the saucer before she set it on the table. "Though nothing would make me happier than to have that little gold digger out of AJ's life, it'll be on my terms and not because she's left him for another man." Breathing heavily, she stared down at Armando's shocked expression and noted how quickly his complexion grew pallor. Feigning concern, she bent over him and clucked her tongue. "Are you feeling alright?" She touched his cheek and despite the sweat on his forehead, her fingers curled against the unnatural coolness of his flesh.

"Cold," he choked out. "But we need to discu-"

"And you should be feeling a bit nauseous too," Julianna said coldly. She held Armando's shoulders as he struggled to push himself out of the chair. "If you aren't, you will be shortly."

Icy fear shot out from Armando's stomach as he looked into his wife's angry eyes and felt her hand tighten around his shoulders. "Wh- What are…you do- ing to me?"

Shrill laughter rose out of Julianna's throat. "I'm not doing anything to you, but the poison seeping through your veins is another issue entirely."

Armando struggled to push Julianna away, but his movements were overshadowed by the drug induced lethargy sweeping over him. His hands fell heavily to his side as he collapsed back against the chair. He blinked rapidly and he struggled to open his mouth. "Lo- Love…A…J…Love…you…"

Julianna's smirk suggested she thought otherwise. She leaned in close to Armando and whispered softly in his ear, "You have never been on AJ's side. From the day he brought that bitch home, you were enchanted by her youthful looks and her accent. You turned over the company to him, yet you still berated him and undermined his authority. You have _never_ loved AJ the way I do. Everything I have done has been for him." She moved back slightly and stared deep into his eyes as she whispered, "I even stayed married to you because of him. I knew that your money and connections would afford him a wonderful life. A life that he wouldn't have had if I divorced you when I wanted to."

"Wh…you…say- ing?" Her condescending laughter met his confused eyes as he struggled to say her name. Frothy saliva trickled down his chin and dripped onto the collar of his bathrobe as his head rolled to the side.

She grabbed his chin and forced him to look back at her, grimacing against the sticky saliva. "He isn't your son." A convulsion drowned out his choked reply and she threw his chin away. A tear worked its way from his eye down the side of his face as his body was racked with uncontrollable spasms. She sighed and held his body up in the chair. "When did you think we had conceived him? While you were working eighteen hours a day? Or in between your frequent trips to the European offices?" She squeezed his chin and felt the pulsing artery in his neck. "I really can't say who is father is…I kept myself thoroughly entertained while you were gone."

Armando's mouth opened and closed several times and Julianna caressed the side of his face. "Don't fight it darling. Just let the poison work." The throbbing artery beneath her fingers became weaker. "It'll all be over soon." She cupped his cheeks with both of her hands and whispered, "By dying you'll have helped AJ in a way I never anticipated." She leaned in and kissed his lips softly, noting his groan as she pulled away. His face was twisted in agonizing pain. "That must be the onset of the heart attack. AJ will be so devastated by your passing." She brushed her hand against his forehead and whispered, "He's looked up to you and the grief will be overwhelming. That whore will never leave AJ when I'm through with her. I'll make sure of it." With their foreheads nearly touching she asked, "Do you still think you can read me like an open book?" She let go of his face and stepped back, as the final convulsions jolted Armando's body.

Clenching her hands in front of her, Julianna watched as his body stilled and his head fell back and to the side. His hand twitched as she crouched in front of him, her hands on his blanket covered knees. She reached up and pressed her finger to his neck, not feeling a pulse. She lifted his head up and imprinted the sight of his lifeless eyes into her memory as she whispered, "Au revoir, ma chere."

The adjoining door opened slowly and The Suit stepped into the room. He walked into the bedroom and reached for the tea cup.

"Au revoir."


	30. Say You Will

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 30: "Say You Will"

The rumpled Egyptian cotton sheets rubbed against Olivia's knees as she bent down and dug her fingers into Gregory's back. His flesh rippled beneath her hands as she massaged his shoulders and swept down to his shoulder blades before following the curve of his spine. He shifted beneath her and groaned softly as her fingers worked out a knot of tension.

She leaned forward, her breasts flattening against his back as she asked teasingly in his ear, "Too rough for you?" As she kissed his ear, a lock of hair fell from her hastily made twist and into her eyes. She pushed it back behind her ear and nuzzled against his neck as he sighed.

"No," he said softly, a small smirk dancing on his lips, "but I am beginning to believe you have sadistic tendencies."

A giggle bubbled out of her throat as she sat up again and continued to massage his back. "Oh, you'd love that. Wouldn't you?"

Gregory rolled over from his stomach and closed his eyes as she resettled herself on top of him. He splayed his palms on her thighs as she lowered her hands back to him. "You've played innocent long enough," he sighed as she raked her nails lightly through the hair of his chest.

"But I am innocent," she whispered, amusement coloring the seriousness she forced. "I was a Catholic school girl after all."

"Need I say more?" He chuckled softly and opened his eyes as she poked him gently. He reached around and cupped her thighs from the back, squeezing them slightly. "You know what they say about you Catholic school girls…"

Olivia's trailed her fingers teasingly down his chest, skimming beneath the crest of his stomach and dipping lower. "What is it that they say?"

The breath caught in Gregory's throat as he hissed, "That you're the wildest ones of all."

She leaned back down, folding her arms on his chest as his hands followed the curve of her bottom and disappeared under the tail of his button down shirt she wore. "Is that so?"

Her elbows ground into his chest as she cupped his nodding face and drew it to hers, placing feather kisses on his chin and neck. He responded by wrapping his arms around her, hugging her close as their lips met tenderly. Her tongue softly explored his mouth, gently teasing him before pulling back and running her tongue across his lips. She sighed against his mouth as his hands fought the shirt for contact with her skin. As her lips followed his jaw bone to his ear, her eyes fell on the clock sitting on the bed side table. Nearly six. With a sigh, she pushed herself up and climbed off him.

Gregory propped himself up on his elbows and watched as she stepped into her skirt, pulling up the side zipper slowly. He stood up and pulled on his pants, doing up his fly as he walked around to the other side of the bed. She stepped into his embrace, his broad arms rubbing her back comfortingly as he wrapped them around her. Beneath his hands, her back shuddered softly and a sigh of longing fell from her lips. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and whispered, "I love you."

Her smile was shaky, at best, as she looked up at him. Her slender hands snaked around to the back of his neck, drawing him in for another kiss as she responded, "I love you too." She grazed her fingers over the hairline at the nape of his neck as her other hand caressed the side of his face.

He kissed her, a quick peck on her lips, before he grasped her arms and directed her to sit on the foot of the bed. He rubbed his hands anxiously through his hair as he crouched in front of her. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips as he looked at her face. Olivia's bright blue eyes were clouded over with concern as she looked him over. Taking both of her hands in his, he said softly, "We don't have to keep putting ourselves through this each month." He paused and glanced down at his feet before meeting her eyes again. "It gets harder and harder to watch you walk out that door each month."

Olivia paled and looked down at their linked hands, her own twitching nervously now. She looked up slowly and stated in the barest of whispers, "You don't want to see me anymore."

"No! God no!" Gregory exclaimed as he moved to kneel on his knees. He squeezed her suddenly cold hands as he shook his head, berating himself for not being clearer. "I love you," he said simply, a remark that drew a small smile from Olivia. "I- I've never loved anyone the way that I love you." His thumbs rubbed over hers as he continued to stare into her blue eyes, where he found the reason for everything. She was his reason for everything. "I don't want to stop seeing you. I _never_ want to stop seeing you," he stressed, causing her to giggle. He smiled up at her, tightening his grip on her hands. "And that's why I want you to come back to New York with me."

Her eyes widened and she gasped. She repeated unsurely, "You want _me_ to come back to New York with you?"

Gregory nodded, as he squeezed her hands comfortingly. "Yes. I do." He sat up on the bed next to her as the phone shrieked from the bedside table. She turned towards the noise and he turned her face gently back to his. "Let it ring." He cupped her cheek and whispered, "I know this is out of the blue but…I just can't go another day without seeing you. Once a month isn't enough." He looked down and chuckled. "I swear it's like I'm addicted to you. When I'm apart from you, it's- it's hell." She swallowed deeply as he looked deep into her eyes. "Leave with me."

She shivered within the thin material of his shirt as she turned fully left to face him. Her heart pounded furiously against her rib cage, the beat pulsing in her ears. "Gregory," she faltered, "I-"

"Don't. Don't say that you can't," he ordered with a bit more force than he intended. "You can. Liv, I want to build a life with you. I want to love you outside of this hotel suite." Olivia hung her head as a tear rolled her face and he tilted her chin back up to his. "I know," he said softly as he brushed the hot tear away with his thumb, "that you don't want to hurt AJ. I don't either. But sweetheart, the longer you stay, the harder it'll be…for everyone." He paused as she bit her lip and looked away, her grip on his hand weakening. He took a breath and stated, "You aren't your mother."

Olivia's head whipped around so quickly that her casual twist collapsed. As her dark hair pooled around her shoulders, she whispered harshly, "I _would_ be."

"No." Gregory grabbed her face and shook his head. He glared as the telephone began to ring again but he turned back to her. She bit the corner of her lip as he insisted, "You are nothing like your mother. You aren't leaving a happy home. You aren't leaving a child." She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "You have every reason to leave. She had every reason to stay."

Her eyes opened slowly, unshed tears brimming in her eyes. "I- I love you."

Gregory smiled in relief as he pulled her into his arms. "I know. And I love you. Olivia, that's the reason. He doesn't have your love, _I_ do." As she sighed and pulled back, he continued softly, "You told me once that I make you happy. I make you feel alive. Sweetheart, you deserve all of that and so much more. I want to be the one who gives you all of that. I want to make you happy and feel alive all the time." She leaned in and rested her forehead against his as he whispered, "You deserve to be as happy as you've made me. And I don't know what else- DAMNIT!" He stalked over to the shrieking phone and yanked it off the base. "What?" he snapped into the handset.

Olivia stood up slowly, pulling the shirt tightly around her body as he turned his back to her, speaking quietly into the phone. She wandered into the bathroom, her toes curling against the cool tile of the floor. She snapped on the light and blinked as her reflection stared back at her. With a frown, she turned on the cold faucet and bent to it. The cold water cleared her head and with a dripping face, she reached for the soft hand towel. As she leaned against the counter, patting her face dry, she heard Gregory return the phone to the receiver. When she came to the doorway, she saw him sitting on the bed, his head in his hands.

"Gregory?"

He sat up slowly and pushed himself off the soft comfort of the bed. Her fingers fluttered nervously against her throat as he walked over to her and took the damp towel from her hand. A block of ice settled in the pit of her stomach as she realized he was having difficulty meeting her eyes.

"Darling, what's happened?"

Gregory took her hand, entwining their finger tightly. "That was Robert McCarthy."

She looked in confusion at the phone. "He's on the Board of Trustees at _Deschanel Shipping_."

He nodded. "He called to cancel a dinner I was to have with him and his wife tonight."

Olivia laughed nervously and attempted to smile. "I don't understand."

Gregory sighed deeply. No matter how he put it, the news would devastate her. "Liv, Armando was found dead half an hour ago." She backed away from him, her body connecting to the door jamb with a soft thud. Her faced drained white so quickly that he moved closer, prepared to catch her.

"What?" she asked in a choking whisper. She wrapped her fingers around his arm, gripping him tightly as she swayed slightly. "It- That can't be! I was- I was with him this afternoon!"

He shook his sadly. "It was a massive heart attack. Liv, he didn't have a chance." He pulled her into his arms as her face crumpled and she sobbed. She squeezed him tightly as hot salty tears fell from her eyes, splattering on his bare shoulder.

Gasping for breath, she cried, "But…I was just with him!" She turned her face into his neck as she continued to sob.

He rubbed her shaking back as her tears stained the side of his neck. Gripping her tighter, he couldn't help but feel sorrier for them. With this loss darkening the Deschanel family, he knew that no amount of heartfelt pleas would get her to leave AJ right now.


	31. In Nomine Patris

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc).

Chapter 31: "In Nomine Patris"

The soft hymn of the choir echoed throughout the stone church, bouncing off the walls and the marble floor. Strong sunlight poured in through the tall stained glass windows, causing beams of different colored light to stain the interior of St. Joan of Arc's. Traces of dust swirled in the patches of light, dancing in the color before disappearing into the rafters of the vaulted ceiling. It seemed somewhat cruel that the sun be so bright in a cloudless sky today. That the temperature be so cool and the beaches look so inviting. Didn't Mother Nature know that the most beloved man in Sunset Beach was going to be laid to rest today?

Sitting in a pew off to the right side of the altar afforded Gregory an undisturbed view of Olivia sitting in the first pew with her husband and mother-in-law. Her hands were clasped piously in front of her, crystal rosary beads loosely entwined her fingers. Pale blue light fell across her tear stained face and the black lace shroud on her head. He watched as she raised her eyes slowly and stared at, without really seeing, the closed casket sitting alone in front of the altar.

AJ sat stiffly between the two women in his life, his hands protectively holding onto his mother's. Julianna's face was completely hidden behind the thick black veil that fell all the way to her shoulders. Occasionally, she raised her glove-clad hand beneath the veil, clutching a handkerchief.

As his own mother patted the corner of her eyes, Gregory glanced discreetly around the church. The sheer number of mourners present would have told any stranger that the deceased was loved. In the five days since Armando's death, the town's small airfield was flooded with private planes carrying members of the Deschanel family from France and business associates from all over the world. All coming to pay their respects to the kind man with twinkling gray eyes and infectious chuckle.

What no one accounted for, at least as far as Gregory could tell, were the citizens of Sunset Beach. For as crowded as the church was, it paled in comparison to the amount of people outside it. Hundreds of people from the town stood together on the sidewalk, their eyes downcast in silent tribute as the hearse carrying Armando's casket passed them on the way to the church. Then, as the hearse and the long line of chauffeured cars following behind turned onto the cobble stoned street in the center of town, spontaneous bursts of applause rang forth from the crowd. _The father of our town may be dead_, the applause seemed to say, _but as he rests in eternal peace, we choose to honor the good life he led_.

His dark brown eyes latched onto Olivia as she stood up somberly, her eyes falling to the ground after they flickered briefly over the section where he sat. She had avoided him like the plague when he attended the wake the previous evening with his parents, stepping out of the receiving line as they approached it and crossing to the opposite side of the room whenever the movements of the crowd pushed them together. He didn't blame her he realized as he watched her conferring with Bette in the corner of the small chapel. In fact, it was probably for the best. For if he had gotten within arms reach of her, it would have taken the armies of Hannibal to stop him from throwing his arms around her and smothering her with kisses.

From the altar, the archbishop took a heavy chain with a heavy copper ball at the end from the altar boy. Strong incense wafted out from the holes, tickling Gregory's nose as white gloved pallbearers raised the coffin onto their shoulders. Walking slowly up the aisle behind the coffin, the archbishop swung the ball slowly from side to side, as thick silver smoke poured from the copper ball.

The choir reached a swelling crescendo as the Deschanel family filed out of the pew behind the archbishop. AJ took his mother's arm to escort her up the center aisle, barely pausing to wait for Olivia as she genuflected. Julianna sobbed shortly and tugged on her son, pulling him with her and away from his wife. Gregory frowned as Olivia trailed behind them alone and unescorted until a head of bright red stood up and pushed her way to the aisle. Bette pulled Olivia close as she wrapped her arm soothingly around her shoulder. He followed them with his eyes until they disappeared into the stairwell that led to the subterranean crypt where Armando's coffin would be interred, relief flooding his chest because he knew Bette would watch over Olivia.

After the heavy wooden door leading to the crypt closed, the congregation rose to their feet as streams of people clogged the aisles to leave the church. An organ cried mournfully from the bowels of the church, masking the voice of Maxwell Richards as he leaned across his wife to Gregory. "Armando Deschanel was truly one of the greatest businessmen that ever lived."

Eleanor Richards sighed tearfully as she tucked her handkerchief into her purse. "He was a wonderful friend to us all," she added softly as she took her husband's hand and stood up. She smiled sadly at Gregory as he stepped back to let her out of the pew first. "We should go to the repast and pay our respects one last time before we go back to New York."

"Of course Mother," Gregory said as his father gestured him close.

"This isn't the time, but I'll rest easier knowing that Armando's passing does nothing to affect the working relationship between our two companies," Maxwell asked in hushed tones. He ignored his son's frown and smiled to reassure Eleanor's questioning eyes. "Well?"

Gregory sighed and narrowed his eyes. "Unlike life, Father, business deals endure."

Maxwell clasped Gregory's shoulder in relief and nodded. He linked arms with Eleanor and followed the crowd of mourners out of the church, with Gregory in their wake.

* * *

As with the church, _Reve de la Mer _overflowed with people. But a rather jovial mood clung to the mourners now. The grief that surrounded them at St. Joan of Arc's dissolved as they indulged in the lavish buffet and endless alcohol flowing from the bars. Light classical music flowed through the first floor, relaxing the guests as they made their way throughout the first floor. If anything, it seemed more like a dinner party than refreshments following a funeral. 

Julianna held court there, sitting primly in a wing-backed armchair as countless visitors filed past her. She smiled indulgently as each person leaned close to her and shared anecdotes about Armando with her. She waited patiently, nodding in understanding and her own eyes misting if the storyteller choked up and could not continue. Her blue eyes blinked furiously, holding back tears as the person finally let go of her hand and whispered how much Armando would be missed. She bit her lip and attempted a smile before turning her attention to the next grieving visitor.

The Suit stood in the corner of the library, watching as the level of wine in Julianna's glass fell as the afternoon wore on and the number of visitors seemed to increase. He had to hand it to the old girl. She deserved an award for pulling off the role of grieving widow. He stepped closer and switched out the almost empty glass for a full one, noting that the expensive wine was the only thing dulling the delighted smile that she flashed him before leaving for the funeral. She pulled it off, marvelously so.

Gregory left his parents with friends of theirs from Connecticut and strolled casually through the living room. The doors to the patio were flung open, letting the golden sunlight and the fragrant ocean breeze into the house. She wasn't there. He glanced over his shoulder. She wasn't in the house either. AJ stood near the fireplace, staring stonily into the hearth as his companions jabbered around him. Gregory turned back to the patio and stepped onto it cautiously. He glanced around briefly before making his way down the stone steps to the gardens.

The ground was soft beneath his shoes as strode through the archway entwined with peonies. Back in New York, the trees already lost their leaves, but here in Sunset Beach the leafy branches on the short trees filtered the sun into thin beams before it reached the ground. Perfumed plots of colorful flowers beckoned his attention, but his eyes were riveted on the back of Olivia's black dress. The black lace veil lay discarded on the wrought iron bench next to her and her hair hung in sad curls over her shoulders.

He picked up the veil and set it in his lap as he sat down next to her. She didn't acknowledge him, her face still turned down to the grass. "Are you alright?" he asked softly as he rubbed the lace veil between his fingers.

Olivia cleared her throat and nodded shortly. Gregory tossed the veil aside and reached for her chin, turning her face gently to his. Her red-rimmed eyes met his, the stroke of his fingers on her chin urging her to be honest. She sighed deeply and bit her lip as her face crumbled. A sob shook her body as he pulled her to him. She buried her face in his neck as he rubbed her back soothingly.

"I sh- shouldn't be this close to you in public," she sighed over a sob after a few minutes.

Gregory glanced back up at the house, not able to hear any trace from the people inside. They were the only people in the garden and no one else strayed from the upper deck of the patio but them. He kissed the side of her head and ran his fingers through her hair. "It's alright," he whispered in her ear.

She gripped him tighter and pressed herself deeper into his embrace, staining the collar of his suit coat with her tears. His strong hands were comforting on her back as she cried into his neck until her eyes burned. She gulped back a sob and pulled away, lowering her face in embarrassment as he held out his handkerchief to her. "Thank you," she whispered, her fingers trembling as she gripped the linen.

He watched quietly as she wiped the tears off her cheeks, his one hand cupping her knee. The other brushed against her cheekbone as he tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

"I must look horrible," she said, her throat scratched and hoarse from crying, "with my bloodshot eyes and splotchy face."

His finger lingered against her ear for a moment as he considered her question. "Oh, I don't know," he said softly. "There's something to be said for a woman who looks lovely, even in grief."

Olivia's lips curled up in the ghost of a smirk as she leaned against the back of the bench. The sculpted design of curling flowers and stems pressed into her before she turned slightly and lowered her head to his shoulder. His arm went around her like second nature, his fingers trailing up and down her bare arm.

"Gregory, I- I'm sorry for ignoring you last night and at the mass," she said softly as she fingered the button on his coat before tucking her hand inside his coat.

"Shhh. Don't even think about it. Besides," he said as an afterthought, "I've always known you were smarter than me."

She sat up and looked deep into his eyes. "I don't know about that." She wrapped her arm around his neck and leaned against him again. "If I was, I would have let you take me away like you wanted to. Like _I_ wanted you to." She pulled away from him slowly and folded her hands in her lap. "You know why I can't do that right now though, don't you?"

Gregory shivered at the sadness clouding her eyes after she turned them back to him. He talked himself into believing that this would be the last time he'd have to fly to California in order to see Olivia. The last time they'd have to hide away in a hotel suite instead of going outdoors like other couples. He envisioned carrying her into his apartment and making love in front of the roaring fireplace as the snow swirled outside the window. Never letting her go. Marrying her. _Maybe this is what love does to a person_, he decided as he leaned in and cupped her cheek. Smudges of exhaustion beneath her sad eyes affirmed how much strain she was already under.

He smiled calmly and caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand. "I would never put that kind of pressure on you. And," he sighed, "I won't kick a man when he's already down."

She nodded sadly after a moment and reached for his hand, squeezing it gently as he rested his forehead against hers. With deep regret, she pulled back and stood up. "I should be getting back."

He stood up and faced her, grasping her hands in his. "I'll see you in a month," he promised as he rubbed her hands. "Right before Christmas."

Olivia half smiled and stepped closer to him. She cupped his face and drew him closer, pressing her mouth gently to his. A breeze stirred her hair as he wrapped his arms around her back. Unspoken longing danced on their lips before she pulled away after a several moments. Desire flashed in his eyes and she lowered hers in apology. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he ordered softly as her head fell back to his shoulders. His arms locked around her back and he nuzzled his face in her hair.

The quiet moment in the garden between the two secret lovers would've been disrupted had they known another person witnessed their stolen moment. From high up in the house, from the tall windows of the library, Julianna glared at Gregory and Olivia as they pulled away from their kiss. The crystal glass of Armando's prized Pinot Noir imploded in her hand as she tightened her grip around it. Blood mixed with the intensely dark red wine and glass shards as they landed in a pool at her feet.


	32. Loves Company

****

NOTE: This chapter is RATED ADULT for sexual content.

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 32: "Loves Company"

The vodka and cranberry was cold in Olivia's hand as she trudged up the stairs. From down below, the hushed voices of the last mourners followed her as she walked down the hall and pushed open the door to her bedroom. With a heavy sigh, she kicked her heels into the corner and ignored the soft thud as they hit the wall. She sat down on the bed, the navy blue and gold duvet soft beneath her, as she reached for the chain on the small stained glass lamp. The glass lampshade glowed softly as she set her crystal glass next to it. Beads of perspiration rolled down the side as she gently rolled her silk stockings down, one leg at a time.

She reached for the glass, taking a long sip to finish it off before she pushed it back to the night table. Licking the taste of the tart lime twist off her lips, she leaned back across the bed. Her dark hair fanned beneath her head, resting partially on AJ's side. Her legs hung heavily off the bed, screaming in white-hot aches. The headache that had been throbbing in her head all week seemed to dull, a gift from the generous splash of vodka she poured into her drink.

The warm comfort of the alcohol washed over Olivia as she closed her tired eyes. Her stomach growled angrily, a reminder that she drank more than she ate today. She shrugged her shoulders disinterestedly. Who could bear eating? The food lodged in her throat, going down slowly as she struggled to swallow.

The mattress shifted and she opened her eyes slightly as AJ collapsed on the bed, his head perpendicular to hers. As she turned her head to look at him, he exhaled deeply and she could smell the gin on his breath.

AJ bent his legs and stared blankly up at the ceiling. He reached for Olivia's hand, squeezing it gently as he sighed, "It doesn't feel like he's gone."

A lump of emotion sprang up in her throat when she heard his flat voice. "I know," she whispered tightly as she blinked away a tear. She struggled to lift her head, as it swam with grief and alcohol, to look at AJ. He tilted his head back to look at her, his normally bright hazel eyes were clouded and devoid of life. "He loved you very much."

He cleared his throat, the squeeze of her hand saying more than he could manage at the moment. He rolled over and looked into her face, his fingers lightly touching her cheek. "He loved you too."

Olivia's chin quivered as she nodded. He rested his forehead against hers, his hot and gin laced breath hitting her upper lip. His fingers trailed over her jawbone and down to her neck. "AJ," she whispered as she shied back, his hand moving down to her breast.

"Please Olivia," he begged, "I need you." His hand molded to her breast briefly before wrapping around her back, pulling her closer to him. "We shouldn't be alone tonight." He moved his lips to her, touching them briefly before lowering his mouth to her neck. "After this week of hell, we need each other. We're still alive."

She bit the corner of her lip and stared up at the ceiling as AJ draped his leg over hers, pulling their hips together. She didn't feel alive. She felt as dead as Armando, slumbering eternally in his crypt. In peace. Something she sorely lacked in her own. Something she had during those all too infrequent interludes with Gregory.

AJ rubbed against her suggestively as his tongue trailed down her throat to the hollow of her neck. She bit her lip to prevent a moan of boredom from escaping as his lips briefly toyed with the flesh at the base of her throat. Delivering heart swelling and tingling sensations in her mind and body were something he never managed to accomplish. Gregory had it down to an art. Her body never sang without him.

He pulled away long enough to open his pants before crushing his mouth against hers. With a consenting sigh, Olivia rolled under him as he pushed the skirt of her black dress up. As she lifted her hips to push down her panties, she thanked herself for the last vodka cranberry. The amount of alcohol promised to numb the sensations…not that there would be many anyway. And judging by stench of gin on AJ, he wouldn't last long.

She bent her legs and turned her head into his neck, hiding from his eyes as he entered her. He thrust swiftly and with eyes closed, working off the pent up stress from the past week. His breath came in shallow pants against her ear as he braced elbows on either side of her. She closed her eyes and rocked her hips slightly, not that he'd notice the effort. He was too caught up in his own ministrations. She gave up and just lay there, as he continued to pant above her, his arms shaking with exertion.

As if he heard her unspoken wish, AJ's arms buckled and he collapsed on top of her. Well _before_ he reached his peak. Olivia opened her eyes slowly and she glanced down at him, his head resting heavily on her breast. She sighed and pushed him off, his breathing deep and steady. As she stood up from the bed, she swayed slightly and she raised her hand to her head. Her vision blurred as she pulled the chain on the lamp, shrouding the room in the dusk of the evening.

In the doorway of the bathroom, she looked back at the bed. He lay passed out on his side, his pants bunched around his knees. She braced her hand on the doorjamb and shook her head.

* * *

Julianna clipped the large yellow topaz sunburst to her lobe, its sister gracing her other ear. She angled her head in front of the mirror before nodding her head in approval. Her hand dove into the mahogany box that sat on the bureau before her. The maroon velvet was soft against her hand as she skimmed against it while fishing out an ornate necklace. Large ruby stones lay surrounded by diamonds and smaller rubies in a sculpted pattern around her neck. 

The Suit's large hands covered her own as she reached to fasten the clasp. She smacked them away and locked the heavy necklace around the base of her throat. She winced slightly as her loosely balled hand stung the open wounds on her palm. He reached for her again, clasping her shoulders lightly.

She spun around, her hand contacting with a loud crack against the side of his face. The angry red cuts began to weep as she pulled her hand back. "Bastard," she hissed as she pressed her lips to her bleeding palm. "My husband hasn't even been in the ground one night."

Her hand fell from her mouth, blood staining her lips as The Suit pushed her against the bureau. The edge dug into the back of her bare thighs, shaking the wood piece enough so that the bottles of expensive perfume fell to their side. Precious stones glittered from her fingers, wrists, ears, and neck. Jewels from the coveted Deschanel collection. Jewels that were now hers. And hers alone.

The Suit traced his finger down the black trim of her short kimono. "When has that ever stopped us before?" he asked quietly as he pushed the red silk off her shoulders.

Her arched foot dug sharply into his gut, pushing him away. As he fell back onto the cushioned lounge at the foot of her bed, she slid off the bureau. Walking towards him, she slowly untied the sash around her waist. With the barest whisper of silk, the robe fell from her body, leaving only the jewels to adorn her. Her heavily made up eyes narrowed as she sank into his lap and reached for the button at his waist. "Never," she growled as she ripped the pants open and reached inside.

He grimaced as she roughly grabbed at him, teasing his erection with a purpose. Pain mixed with pleasure as her fingers worked steadily. He leaned back, the sound of the heavy bracelets on her wrist knocking together were drowned out by his guttural moan. With a cruel smirk, she withdrew her hand quickly and turned away as she backed off him.

Julianna lightly swung the long rope of Japanese pearls as The Suit's chest heaved. He grabbed for her as he jumped up, pushing her hard into the wall. One hand braced the wall as the other roughly tugged on the rose-colored pearls. The string holding the long strand snapped and the rare beads bounced and scattered across the wood floor.

She grabbed his throat and yanked him to her, squeezing slightly as the pearls settled. She pressed her lips to his, continuing to tighten her grasp on his neck as his tongue parted her lips. Her mouth against his muffled his cry as her teeth sunk into his tongue. He wrenched away from her, wiping his hand against his mouth as he the taste of sharp iron swirled down his throat.

Blind fury drove him back to her as he pulled her roughly to him, ignoring the sadistic smirk that danced on her lips. His mouth was hard and insistent against hers, bruising her lips as their bodies crashed into the bathroom door. It swung open as she tore his button down shirt from his body, her sharp nails trailing through the hair of his olive skinned chest.

Their heavy breathing echoed in the large bathroom. He leaned against the counter, the marble cool against his legs as she pushed his remaining underclothes down and he kicked them off along with his pants. Her hands were anxiously moving over his flesh, her lips hot against his mouth as his heavy shoes thudded against the sunken Roman tub in the center of the room.

Squeezing her bottom hard with both hands coaxed a low moan deep in her throat as he pulled her closer. Her hands cupped the slick skin of his bare head. His eyes were black as onyx as his fingers teased her nipples to peaks. She smacked the side of his head with her palm as his mouth settled on her neck, just under her jawbone.

"No marks," she breathed as she dug her fingers into his side. "At least not on the face." Her head fell back as The Suit's teeth found their way to her breast, his teeth skimming lightly before biting hard. She bucked against him, her breath hot against his mouth. She pulled him away from the counter to the open door at the other side of the bathroom.

Armando's bedroom stood dark and still, the drapes pulled back from the windows. Silver moonlight fell in from the windows, dark shadows clinging to the corners as Julianna and The Suit stumbled into the room. She pushed him to the ground, staring down at him for a moment before settling herself. The large diamond on her finger flashed in the silver light as he grabbed her hips and pulled her roughly down as he thrust up.

She gasped loudly as he continued to dive up into her, small bright stars swimming in her vision when he grabbed her hand and pressed his fingers into the open cuts. Icy pain shot up her wrist and arm as The Suit flipped her over onto her back. The rug burned her bare skin as he reamed into her. Her fingers clawed their way up his back, thin trails of blood left in their wake. Counterpoints of pleasure and pain surged through them as the air around them crackled with energy.

Her hips arched into his as he kneeled up, his hands tightening around her thighs as he pulled them higher up on his waist. Harder and deeper he went into her as she stretched her arms above her head. Her head rolled to the side, facing the leg of the bed and the tassel of the quilt hanging over the side. She tightened the lock her legs had on his waist and drew him back to her. Her arms wrapped across his back and she said in a breaking whisper, "I hope he's rolling over in his grave."


	33. Saint Thomas of Dorset

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 33: "Saint Thomas of Dorset"

If Olivia had to choose one word to describe life at _Reve de la Mer _after Armando's death, it would certainly be "quiet." Of course terms like "sad", "depressing", and "mournful" would also work, but they didn't cut it. None fully encompassed the new mentality that settled over the Deschanel family after the funeral.

Breakfast on the patio overlooking the beach passed in silence, as AJ and Olivia tried to ignore the empty chair at the head of the table. It's mere existence served as a sharp reminder of all that was already lost and all they had yet to realize. Even Armando playful bemoaning his diet was a pleasure they'd never have again.

For Julianna, it seemed to Olivia, that the reminders were just too much. She usually began the day with AJ and Olivia on the patio. It was over fruit and coffee that the chair's quiet presence got the best of Armando's widow. With a terse "excuse me", Julianna was gone from the table, her fork clinking against the china plate. Leaving AJ and Olivia to watch her stride off the patio, the remnants of a sob escaping her as she turned into the house.

It went downhill from there.

AJ disappeared for hours at a stretch into his study, working like a dervish and still trying to achieve his father's approval. Even from the afterlife. Olivia too threw herself into work, spending more time at the hospital, logging so many volunteer hours that the Chief of Staff offered her a job a week after Armando was laid to rest. After taking a moment to consider the offer, she accepted the position and became the Director of Volunteer Services.

Julianna only came out of her self-induced seclusion at meal times, so the next time anyone saw her was at dinner. She joined AJ and Olivia in the lounge for cocktails at five each evening. They avoided her puffy and bloodshot eyes, watching silently as she accepted her usual drink from Therese. The usual drink now usually turned into multiple glasses of wine during the meal and topped off by brandy after dinner. As if drinking would somehow quell the heartbreak…

"Hurry up and do it," Julianna snapped. She took a long drag on her cigarette and stared intently at The Suit. He took her chin lightly in his hand, her blue eyes bright as she stared up at him. She tapped her foot impatiently and blew out a thin stream of smoke as he raised his other hand to her face. With lightening quick fingers, he flicked his index finger against each of her eyes. She hissed a curse and backed away, her eyes watering and smudging the freshly applied eye makeup.

"Bloodshot and teary, as requested," The Suit said as he took the burning cigarette from Julianna, discarding the decidedly feminine holder and smoked straight from the filter.

She sniffed and turned away from the mirror, looking properly somber in a simple black dress. "It's only been two weeks. If I appeared looking any other way, they'd be suspicious. As it is," she sighed, "Olivia already checks on me before she leaves for work and after she comes home. No doubt because AJ asked her to."

"Or she's just genuinely concerned," The Suit piped up as he blew lazy smoke rings from the foot of the bed.

Julianna snorted as she ran a silver brush through her blond hair, fluffing it gently. "I doubt that. Whatever her reasons, I'm using it to my advantage. I need to torture her with guilt. She may not love AJ, but she did love Armando. The one lasting gift he left me. I've got her believing I'm lost without him. We can bond over that." She held her hand to her forehead and moaned mockingly, "Oh my beloved Armando. What will I do without him? My poor darling." She chuckled as her hand fell to her neck and she adjusted the pearl choker at the base of her throat. "If she is 'genuinely concerned' as you put it, between AJ and I, she'll be up to her neck in grief. Not to mention her own. And that's exactly where I want her: out of her mind with grief."

He tapped his watch pointedly and she gasped, dropping the teardrop earrings she modeled on her ears. She grabbed his hand and held it to her lips, dragging on the cigarette.

"Fortification," she explained as she stood back, smoothing the skirt of knee length dress. "At least until I get to the liquor. I think AJ believes I'm becoming an alcoholic." She smirked as she turned away, swooping out of the bedroom.

The first floor was dark, the lamps turned low. A large Noble Fir stood prominently before the patio doors. Olivia had the tree brought in three days ago to coincide with the start of the Christmas season. As it was, the twenty-foot tree received little attention and its boughs remained naked. Julianna supposed that at some point in the near future, either AJ or Olivia or a combination of them both would force her help hang some of the decorations on the needled branches. She hid a smile behind her hand as she thought of the tears she would conjure when she tied faux memories to each of the ornaments.

As she passed the dining room, she heard Therese humming softly as she laid the antique china on the table. Armando's insistence of a full meal at the end of the day carried on. Creamy napkins folded decoratively on top of the three plates of varying sizes. Flickering candelabras that gave a cozy intimacy to the large table. Several courses at dinner, a different wine for each portion. A small bowl of frozen sherbet in between the courses to cleanse the pallet. In short, no less than ninety minutes where she was required to play the grieving widow.

Soft music, possibly Bach, drifted out of the lounge over the hushed voices of AJ and Olivia. Julianna blinked her eyes furiously and stepped into the room. Their stilted conversation fell off as the young couple stood up.

"Maman! How are you feeling today?" AJ asked as he pulled Julianna to him.

She sniffed tellingly and nodded shortly as he led her to the sofa. He pressed the aperitif into her hand and she smiled graciously as she held it to her lips. He sat on the low table in front of her, Olivia taking a seat on the sofa next to her. Close, but not too close for comfort.

"Maman, we- Angel and I- were just discussing that it would be a good idea to start decorating the house for Christmas. Therese and the rest of the staff can arrange the lights, the garland, and everything else to be put up. And we can start hanging ornaments on the tree. What do you think?"

Julianna slowly sipped the drink, the Kir sweet and smooth down her throat, as she eyed each of them. AJ's hands were folded in front of him, his legs spread slightly as he hunched over in concern as the silence grew. He frowned and glanced over to Olivia. She sat angled sideways on the sofa, her arm propped against the back. She shrugged discreetly and cleared her throat.

"It might," she said softly, "do you some good to leave your room for a few hours." AJ nodded in enthusiastic agreement as he looked at his mother.

She sighed pointedly and raised her eyes to her son. Feigning anxiety, she repeatedly shifted the small glass from hand to hand as she sighed deeply. "Ar- He loved Christmas ve- very much." She hung her head and her back shuddered as she sobbed. "I- I'm sor- sorry," she sniffed as AJ took her in his arms. "It's jus-"

"We know Maman. We know." He looked to Olivia for help as he soothed his mother's shaking back.

Olivia leaned forward and pried the glass of Kir from Julianna's hand. "He'd be unhappy knowing that we didn't celebrate Christmas as we normally did. He wouldn't want us to use him as an excuse."

Julianna nodded as she sat back, AJ's hand heavily resting on her shoulder. "You're right, my dear." She removed a small handkerchief from the band of her wristwatch and patted her eyes. "He'd want us to go on. But, it's just…so…diff-" She turned her head and waved her hand dismissively while she paused dramatically. She cleared her throat after AJ's grip on her shoulder tightened. "We _will_ decorate the tree. Perhaps tomorrow?"

AJ leaned forward and kissed his mother's forehead. "Whenever you feel up to it. Olivia and I are at your beck and call."

She smiled tiredly. "You both," she said, glancing to include Olivia, "have been absolutely wonderful these past weeks. I don't know how I would've managed without you." She took both of their hands and squeezed slightly, knowing the gesture would catch at least one of them off guard.

"Maman, where else would we be?" Olivia's hand gave a slight spasm within Julianna's grasp at AJ's rhetorical question. "We're your family," he continued grandly, "and our place is with you." He paused briefly before adding, "We're the only family we have now."

"Well, that's not _quite_ correct," said a deep voice from the doorway.

They turned around as Henri stepped into the room and held out his hands in introduction. "Monsieur Blake."

Olivia gasped and flew up from the sofa. "Poppy!" she exclaimed as she threw her arms around the tall man with salt and pepper hair. "What are you doing here?" She smiled as Thomas chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. She pressed her face to him and inhaled deeply. Butterscotch and pipe tobacco, the comforting scents of her childhood. Purely Thomas, the one source of constant love and stability in her young life. She pulled back and smiled up at him, tears stinging her eyes.

"Oh, I just thought I'd pop across the pond and check on my girl." He chucked her chin and smiled down at her. "How are you love?"

She giggled softly and squeezed him back to her. "Happy you're here."

Thomas nodded knowingly and ran his hand through Olivia's hair as he looked into the room. AJ and Julianna stood quietly, his arm protectively around her shoulders. He stepped into the lounge, his own arm around his daughter. "Julianna, AJ…I'm so sorry about Armando." He paused as Julianna nodded and lowered her eyes. "I wanted to be here for the funeral," Thomas continued, "but I just couldn't get away."

AJ stepped forward and shook Thomas' extended hand. "It's alright, Thomas."

"And you're here now," Olivia added, shrinking back to her father.

"And you must stay with us," Julianna said softly. "You can stay in one of the guest rooms and we'll have Therese set another place at dinner." She nodded to Henri, who left the room with a nod of his own. She stepped closer to the trio, her hands clasped in front of her. "How long were you planning on staying?"

"Through New Year's if that's alright with you."

"Of course it is," AJ insisted. He clasped his father-in-law's shoulder. "We'll get some dinner. You must be starving."

Julianna trailed behind them, her arms crossed in front of her. Thomas' arrival and extended visit was not a part of her plans.


	34. Sage

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 34: "Sage"

The salty breeze ruffled Thomas' hair and he brushed a flyaway lock off his forehead with the back of his hand. Baby waves rolled gently onto the shore, staining the white gold sand a dull brown. A seagull skimmed the beach, stealing a morsel of discarded bread from a young family's picnic. A toddler shrieked excitedly as he played in the surf.

"Different than the beaches back home in Dorset, aren't they?" Olivia asked as she bent to kiss his cheek. Thomas chuckled as he closed the worn bound book, the green cloth cover faded gray. "You can't go anywhere without those," she noted as he gently placed his stubs of charcoal back in the small box, wiping the black smudges off his fingers with a handkerchief.

"Can't help it. Every place I go, there's a landscape just begging to be sketched." Thomas grinned as Olivia curled up on the stone step next to him, her head on his shoulder. "Beaches here…They couldn't be any farther away from the ones back home. You couldn't even be at seaside now."

She chuckled and leaned up, hugging her knees to her chest as she looked out at the beach. The sun was warm above, its rays a sharp contrast to the pelting ice rain that Dorset was most likely receiving.

He rubbed his hands together before setting them back on his thighs. "Now," he continued as he turned to look at Olivia, "don't you have a job to be at?"

Olivia's sigh screamed disinterest as she smirked. "I do, but the beauty in being the director of the department is that you get to make your own schedule. While you're here, I'll just be working in the mornings."

"Well then, fancy a walk up the beach with your old dad?"

She nodded and stood up quickly, extending her hand down to assist him. "You aren't old Poppy."

"That's what I like to hear." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked down the steps. Their bare feet sank into the warm beach, the fine sand collecting in the crevices between their toes.

Olivia gathered her hair over one shoulder and sighed happily as they strolled. "Poppy, I'm-"

"So happy that I'm here," Thomas finished with a smile. As Olivia pouted, Thomas laughed and hugged her closer. "You've been saying that everyday since I got here." He rubbed her arm and said thoughtfully, "It won't be so long between my visits again, I promise."

"Almost a year," she complained softly as she turned to the Pacific. The blue water glared silver in the spots where it caught the sun. In the distance, a large ship chugged slowly along the horizon to destinations unknown.

"I'm sorry love." They continued in silence for a few steps before Thomas asked, "How have you been since Armando died? I know how fond of him you were."

Olivia sighed and absentmindedly twisted a lock of her hair around her finger. "Quiet…and sad." She paused for a moment before adding, "It seems like we're all just struggling to get through the day. Even the most mundane activities seem to take too much time and energy. Julianna's barely left her room since the funeral."

"And AJ?"

The hair spiraled off her index finger as her hand fell to her side. She bit the corner of her lip and reached into the pocket of her father's chocolate brown trousers. The small oval of butterscotch was hard in her palm and the wrapper crinkled as she unwrapped it. "He's been working from home," she said as she popped the candy in her mouth, sucking eagerly on the sweet block. "He's going to start going back to the office next week."

Thomas tucked the gold plastic wrapper in his pocket. "That's good. Getting back to a routine helps." He leaned over and kissed the side of Olivia's head. "Armando was a good man."

She nodded and turned to face her father, a small smile playing on her lips. "He reminded me so much of you. The kind smile, the laughing eyes…" She broke off suddenly and shook her head. "It helped when I missed you."

He stopped walking and turned to her, appraising the daughter that stood before him. Her hair was dark against her tanned skin, a gift from living in a land eternally graced by the sun and warm weather all year round. Eyes that mirrored his own looked back at him, seemingly becoming a darker shade of blue as they drew color from the sea. She was healthy and alive, the whole world at her feet. Why did she look as lost as the lamb she brought home when she was seven?

"Does that happen often?" he asked, his large hands dwarfing her slim shoulders.

Olivia shrugged as her eyes turned down to the sand. It sparkled, the bits of crystal and shell dancing in the sunlight. "It's lonely sometimes," she admitted softly as she looked back up at him. "Aren't I allowed to miss you?"

"Of course you are love," he said as he pulled her back to him, hugging her close as his arms went around her. As if that could somehow protect his daughter from the terrible specter that haunted her. His arm moved back to her shoulder as he continued to lead her along the shoreline. "How are you lonely living in a house with your husband and in-laws?"

"It's a big house, Poppy," she snapped, regretting her tone a second after she spoke. Sighing deeply, she bit down on the shrinking butterscotch, wincing as it crunched loudly between her teeth. She swallowed the sugary fragments and cleared her throat as she twisted the sparkling diamond on her ring finger. "Marriage," she began slowly, "to AJ isn't what I hoped it would be."

Thomas sighed and rubbed her shoulder. "Marriage isn't easy," he conceded. He eyed her out of the corner of his eye. She avoided his eyes intently, staring blankly at the beach in front of them. "Are you and AJ going through a bit of a rough spot?"

She bit her lip and considered his question. To say that she and AJ had a few problems didn't even begin cover it. Witnessing the bitter breakup of her parent's marriage left her with the steadfast determination that she never go through the same pain. AJ's passive nature ensured her emotions would remain safe, locked away tightly in her heart. Protected from hurt and pain. Except of course from the pain she inflicted on herself by sacrificing true love and happiness for the safety of those emotions.

And then there was her father, a man with scars from his own marriage. Invoking memories of her absent mother was also something she tried to avoid at all costs. Burdening her father with her unhappy marriage and Gregory conundrum would do just that.

So she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "Oh, it's nothing I can't handle."

Doubt ran across Thomas' face but he nodded after Olivia forced a smile. A breeze blew in from the ocean, ruffling the thin sleeve of his shirt and her hair. He bent down to the sand, standing back up as he brushed sand from the shell. It was pure white like powdered sugar, tiny coral colored markings painting the smooth underside. He pressed it into Olivia's hand with a tiny smile. "You're a strong woman love. Always remember that whenever you're feeling lonely."

She nodded, wrapping her fingers around the small shell. "I will Poppy." She smiled brightly at him as they continued walking.

As they wandered through the surf, the warm water christening their sand caked feet, Thomas said, "You're working now. At least that gives you something to do."

"Poppy, I think they only gave me the position because my last name is 'Deschanel'." She glanced back up at her father, the breeze stirring his thick hair. "The Chief of Staff can milk the 'Deschanel' name for countless numbers of donations, more so if there's actually one on staff."

"Can you do the job?" Thomas asked. "And do it well?" Olivia nodded. "Prove them wrong then love." They stopped walking as he turned to face her and continued, "And remember, your name was 'Blake' long before it was 'Deschanel'."

She smiled and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "What would I do without you Poppy?"

"For starters," he chuckled as he kissed her cheek, "you'd have to find another person to steal butterscotch from."


	35. Us Eternal

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 35: "Us Eternal"

Whisky? Scotch? Maybe bourbon? Or vodka?

Gregory slammed the door of the liquor chest shut, turning away with a frown. He clenched his fist open and shut several times, willing the dull ache in his chest away. Liquor would help. The heavy loneliness that suffocated him during the day evaporated at night, replaced by something entirely new. Loneliness. Warm, born-of-alcohol loneliness.

How did alcoholics do it? Sit alone and drink themselves into oblivion until there was nothing left?

He reached for the cabinet again, grabbing a hold of the brass handles and opening it. Two glasses he turned right side up, dropping the cubes in with a reassuring clink. The aged scotch lapped over the ice, the cubes bobbing to the top like buoys in the harbor.

Taking a long sip out of one, he leaned against the arm of the sofa and stared blankly at the floor. A thick fibered carpet, the kind that a person could lose their toes in if they walked through it barefoot. Were he and Olivia barefoot in here ever? He couldn't remember. She went barefoot in the bedroom often, her chilled feet tucked under his legs for warmth. She giggled when he pointed it out and just shrugged innocently as she burrowed deeper into his embrace.

He sighed as more scotch ran down his throat, sending a pulse of heat through his stomach. So they may not have been barefoot in this room together; what else hadn't they done? He rubbed the back of his neck in thought and took another sip out of the thick-bottomed glass.

A knock at the door distracted Gregory. It was a knock he'd know anywhere. Soft, with a light and cautious hand, as if she was afraid of drawing anyone's attention with it but his. With another sigh, he pulled open the door and leaned against it. "What haven't we done?" he asked.

Olivia's forehead wrinkled in confusion as she frowned, her eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses. "What?" she asked as stepped into the suite.

Gregory pushed the door shut and gestured in between them with his glass as she tucked her sunglasses into her purse. "What haven't we done together yet?" He turned to the open bar and passed her the second glass of scotch.

She dropped her bag on the coffee table and cupped the glass, following him to the sofa. She folded one leg underneath her and faced him, grimacing as the scotch touched her lips. "Is this a trick question?"

He shrugged and finished the last of his scotch with a large gulp. "I didn't think it was." He glared down at the empty glass and pushed it onto the coffee table so that it slid across the surface, coming to a stop when it crashed into her purse. The sofa was firm, giving just enough as he leaned back against it before he turned to her. Meeting the blue eyes that were narrowed in thought, a slight frown disfiguring her face. "What?"

Olivia set her still full glass aside and took his hand. "Are you alright?"

Her slender hand was cool and soft against his as she squeezed it slightly. Concern echoed from the depths of her blue eyes as she shifted closer to him.

"Talk to me," she pled in a whisper.

Her knee was a soft pressure on his thigh, a reassurance that she was here with him now. Was it fair to be brutally honest? To admit that he was madder than hell that nothing had changed between them. That everything was the same as it ever was. She was still Olivia Deschanel and he still traveled three thousand miles once a month to see her. That he felt like a three year old when he decided that it just wasn't fair that they still had to see each other like this. Hidden away like clandestine thieves. Damnit, they deserved better than that.

She grasped his shoulder, turning him more to her. "Gregory?" She leaned in and examined him close up, her face a scant inch away from his. His jaw was working, as if his teeth were clenched tight inside his mouth. "Please?"

His eyes snapped forward and met hers, the hard ice in them thawing as he felt her sigh on his cheek. The air rushed out of his chest in a long sigh as he shook his head and removed her hand from his shoulder, brushing his lips against her knuckles. "Bad flight," he covered as he forced a smile.

Olivia tilted her head as he leaned forward for a quick taste of scotch from her glass. "Is that all?"

It had to be. It wasn't fair to either of them to get into the forbidden aspect of their relationship, not now. Not when their time together was so short. Not that the relationship, in and of itself, wasn't forbidden. Didn't adulterers wind up in the second level of the Inferno? He shuddered and hugged her tighter. For now, it had to be. "Airports are crazy at this time of year. There were small children in the lounge whining about Santa and presents."

She chuckled and sat back, resting her elbow on his shoulder. "Christmas is still a week away."

"Tell that to them," Gregory muttered as his fingers trailed the length of her spine and back again. "You've got no idea how much I've missed you," he stated after a few moments.

The pad of her thumb skimmed the flesh of his neck as she rested her head against his. "I can guess." Her lips pressed a gentle kiss to his temple and she sighed softly. His hand found her hair, tangling it within the dark waterfall down her back. She swung her legs into his lap and his free hand cupped the back of her thighs.

As her head shifted to rest on his shoulder, he asked, "What is it that you want for Christmas?" Her giggle was infectious and he couldn't help but smile as he glanced down at her. Her eyes turned up, laughter ringing there now too.

"It's a valid question," he insisted. "Assuming, of course, that you've been a good girl this year."

The dare had been laid. Olivia sat up, an amused smile on her lips as she straddled his lap. "What do you think?" she asked demurely, her skirt riding up on her thighs as his hands rested on her hips.

Her arms went around his neck as he eyed her critically. "I don't know," he decided after a moment as he rubbed his palms against her hips. "I did tell you once that there were equal amounts of angel and devil in you."

She smiled as their original conversation whispered to her from the shadows of her memory. "You did, didn't you?" He nodded his head deeply, reinforcing that he was right and she laughed softly as she bent her lips to his.

This is what he remembered and longed for. This quiet intimacy. Being able to kiss her, simply because he could. Because she was here and he was here and that's all that ever mattered when they were alone together. He wrapped his hands around the middle of her back, pulling her closer. She shifted in his lap as her fingers cupped his face and her lips showered it with feather kisses.

His hands crept up and tugged on her blazer, pulling it off her shoulders. As the blazer bunched around the middle of her back, his hands found her flesh, left bare by her sleeveless blouse. She pulled her hands away from him long enough to shake her arms out of the sleeves and wrap her arms back around him. They were cool against his warm neck, a contrast to the slow burning heat building between them. And as her lips became more insistent and hungrier against his own, he pulled back.

"Wha- Why?" she groaned softly, her lips a dull aching red. She started to lean back to him, but he braced her shoulders back.

"I need to give you something, before it's too late."

"Late for what?"

Gregory grabbed her hips and held her in place. "Stay put." He reached behind him, to the long table hugging the back of the sofa. He felt around and found the square box next to the base of the flower arrangement.

She looked down quietly as he held out a box wrapped in glossy white paper. "Gregory…" she whispered

"Merry Christmas Liv." He watched as she blinked and glanced up at him, a broad smile stretching across her face. She caressed the side of his face with the back of her fingers and kissed his lips again. A soft kiss, absent was the burning desire from just a moment ago. Gone at the present, but not forgotten.

She sat back and grinned in the way a child would on Christmas morning as she looked down at the small package. "Thank you darling." With careful ease, she wedged her finger into the paper folds and peeled back the shiny wrapping. In one smooth movement, it slid off the box whole. Leaving only a jewelry box of deep red in her palm, gold trim around the base. She wedged her nail into the gold clasp and popped it open, the hinge creaking slightly as she lifted the top. "Oh God," she gasped, bright pinpoints of light dancing across her face. "Oh God," she trailed off as Gregory gently pulled the top all the way back and pried the box from her hand.

He tucked her hair behind her ears and removed the first earring from the box, fastening it to her lobe gently. When it was in place, he went back for its twin and said softly, "Just a little something that I saw in the window of a little store on Fifth Avenue."

Olivia turned the box up as he clipped the second earring to her. She glanced at the name of the jeweler embossed in gold script on the inside of the top cover and arched her eyebrow. "Little store?"

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I can't be concerned with details. But do you like them?" he asked. The large ruby studs sat on her ear lobes, a double vine of small diamond leaves falling from each one.

She nodded, the entwined diamonds swaying slightly. "I love them," she whispered as she bestowed another kiss on his lips. She broke away and smiled softly. "They're absolutely beautiful." She glanced down and bit her lip, her hand fidgeting anxiously against his. "My gift for you pales in comparison."

Gregory's hand was warm as it encircled hers, squeezing gently as he smiled confidently. "No it doesn't." He gestured her close with a crooked finger and whispered in her ear, "You've got it backwards."

She shook her head unsurely and reached across for her bag. The small hunter green satchel was tied off with twine. With a bashful smile, she handed him the velvet pouch and whispered, "Merry Christmas darling."

The twine gave easily with one tug and he shook the contents into his palm. A small gold ring tumbled out, landing face down in his hand. He picked it up and examined it in the light.

"It's called a Claddagh ring. Well," she broke off and laughed nervously, "it's _my_ Claddagh ring, to be exact." She watched as he turned the ring over in his palm, still staring at it. "It's the Irish symbol of love. The hands are for our friendship, the crown is for our eternal loyalty to one and other, and the heart- the heart is for our undying love." As she gently closed his fist over the ring, she said softly, "I thought that it could keep my place…until I could be with you."

He didn't quite know how she managed to do it. How she managed to be so utterly sweet to him when he was ready to drown their sorrows in scotch. How one little gift could set his mind at ease and set the demon feelings at bay. How her heartfelt words could create such a lump of emotion in his throat. How she could make him love her more than he did five minutes ago. She would, for him, eternally be a mystery.


	36. Best Laid Plans

****

NOTE: This chapter is RATED ADULT for sexual content.

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 36: "Best Laid Plans"

The black velvet ball gown lay forlornly over the arm of the generously stuffed love seat. Next to it, inside a mahogany box, rested a diamond baguette necklace and matching earrings.

The room was utterly still, save for the slight rustling of the sheets on the bed as The Suit sat up. Cream-colored silk covered the pillow that was propped between his back and intricate piping of the solid brass bed, absorbing the sheen of perspiration on his bare back. His head lay uncomfortably on the curve of one of the brass bars, a dull ache throbbing from the nape of his neck.

It didn't take a great leap of the mind to see that The Suit was out of place in the room. Yellow and cream sheers cloaked the tall windows, complimenting the darker yellow curtains that hung over them. Panels of warm wood came half way up from the floor and met the flower print Jacquard wallpaper coming down from the ceiling. The fabric accented the floral paintings done in the style of Monet. The Suit wasn't the only person who was seemingly out of place in the airy room.

Julianna emerged from the bathroom, a white towel folded tight on her head. Her feet padded across the wood floor to the large oval mirror in the corner, adding another level of noise to the room. She eyed her reflection critically as the robe pooled around her ankles, a chill sweeping over bare flesh. The bright red strapless bra and panty set was a stark contrast to the black attire she had donned for the past month. She glanced over her shoulder at the casually tossed ball gown and rolled her eyes.

"Wearing black all the time can kill a person," she muttered as she walked to the loveseat and kicked at the train softly with her foot. She propped her leg on the seat and tucked her foot inside the silk stocking, pulling the material high up onto her thigh. The black lace trim at the top of the flesh-toned stocking snapped against her skin as she smoothed it out.

As she reached for the other stocking, The Suit said, "Or you will." He leaned up on his knees and reached through the brass bars to stroke her calf. With a slight squeeze, his hand burned up the silk as he wrapped his hand around her leg at the back of the knee and pulled her to him.

She gripped the loose stocking in her hand and stood on the cushion of the love seat, looking down at The Suit. "Would I?" she asked curtly as he pressed his face into her stomach. His hands caressed her hips, the soft skin rippling beneath his fingers.

"You won't let her get away with it." He hoisted her bare leg over the bar, running one finger along the trim of her panties.

Her blue eyes were cold steel as she glared down at him, her fingers twisting the stocking. She cocked her head as he cupped the flesh between her legs, tearing the thin material of the crotch apart. "There are fates," she whispered with a slight gasp as his index finger slipped inside, "worse than death."

* * *

The black silk for the bow tie hung loose around Gregory's neck as he removed the shoetrees from his leather dress shoes. A holiday ball was never his idea of a good time, especially one that took place in Sunset Beach of all places. But as he was still here and he was in business with the town's most prominent family, he could hardly refuse with a reasonable excuse. 

And ever eager for the chance to see Olivia, no matter what the occasion, he had his secretary graciously accept on his behalf.

The leather shoes were tight around his feet and faint traces of shoe polish filled his nostrils as he adjusted the cuffs of his pants. He walked over to the balcony, letting the perfume of the ocean replace the chemical odor of the leather treatment. A full moon hung low in the sky, bathing the town in a light of silver-blue.

From down below, strains of the orchestra drifted up to his room, along with the faint hum of the party. A full orchestra it sounded like, that he supposed would regale them with sweeping renditions of traditional carols and holiday music. "Lovely," he muttered as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. Would he even bother if it were not for the promise of Olivia?

The large face of his gold watch told him that fashionably late ended in thirty minutes. With a sigh, he turned away from the open door as a slight breeze ruffled his starched shirt above the black satin cummerbund. He stood in front of the large rectangular mirror, twisting the black silk into a pointed bow. As he straightened the tie and wondered how long it would be before he could duck out of the ball without appearing rude, a sharp rap on the door shattered the silence in the suite.

"Yoo hoo," he heard a woman call from the other side of the door over another knock.

Perplexed, Gregory pulled open the heavy door, grimacing as a blur of red hair barreled through. "Oh, it's you," he muttered.

Bette turned around, grinning broadly as the door closed and Gregory leaned against it, his arms folded across his chest. "Don't give me that," she chided as she waved her index finger playfully. "You don't get to use that tone with me until you've seen me _at least _half a dozen times."

"And why's that?" he asked, genuine curiosity infused with mild annoyance.

She cocked her head in surprise. "That's how long it takes for me to get under the average person's skin."

He chuckled at her simple explanation and shook his head. "Bette, Bette…I'm not, nor have I _ever_ been, average."

"You can say that again," she cooed as she straightened his bow tie and winked. The strapless black dress with a thick trim of green at her breasts and feet whistled as she turned around for his jacket. Holding it out to him, she said, "The Crystal Ball awaits us."

"Us?"

* * *

"Death," Julianna continued, "is too easy. I want her suffering." She gripped his shoulder, the silk stocking a fragile barrier between her hand and him. His wicked finger teased her slowly, reminiscent of a languid breeze on a hot summer day. She shifted her hips and angled herself more over the bars of the brass footboard. 

His free hand tightened on her rear, steadying her from further movements. Her thigh quivered as he went deeper, warmth surrounding him and blossoming in the pit of her stomach. "What's worse than death?" he asked softly as she squeezed his shoulder.

She grunted and pushed The Suit away, climbing over the footboard as he fell back into the feather pillows. She kneeled over him, yanking his hands back above his head. The silk stocking stretched as she bound his wrists to the brass bars. Her hands braced his shoulders as she lowered her body to his, stretching out on the length of him. His legs wrapped around hers, one naked and the other clad in smooth silk. "For my dear Olivia," she whispered in between nipping his lips, "it's the one thing she fears most-"

"Other than you?" he asked as their lips fought one and other, his arms straining against the silk as her sharp nails trailed his upturned arms.

Her chuckle would've echoed amusement had it not had an undercurrent of evil to it. She leaned up slightly, her elbows digging into this chest as straddled him, her knees tight against his side. "She doesn't fear me. Not yet anyway," she hissed in his ear as her tongue lapped up a rivulet of sweat. The salty moisture stung a small cut on the inside of her lip, a remnant of last night's midnight escapade. "What she _does_ fear is being trapped for all eternity with my son." She sat up and smirked, her hands splayed across his chest.

"She won't stay," The Suit insisted. "Not if she can help it." He trembled as she took him inside her, rolling and grinding her hips against him. With painstaking ease, her body rose and fell as if they had all the time in the world. The silk rubbed against his wrists, a friction too gentle to leave behind burns. Not that that would stop them.

The knot holding the towel together loosened, the white cotton falling down to her shoulders along with her blond hair. Her head rolled back as she pulled him deeper, his hands jerking against the bond as his hips writhed to meet her. From a soft moan, her breath turned into a short pant as she gripped his shoulders, her nails leaving angry red imprints in his flesh.

There was a steady increase in her movements as she breathed, "But _I_ can help it." Glancing at The Suit's bound hands, she said, "She needs to be bound to my son." Leaning down to his chest, the coarse black hair of it rubbing against hers, she gasped out as she tightened around him, "She needs...a child."

* * *

She chuckled as he stepped back from her, shrugging into the jacket. "I swear I don't bite…despite what my ex-husband will tell you." 

Gregory tucked the room key into his pocket and eyed Bette suspiciously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She sighed and stood in front of the mirror, fluffing her bangs and puckering her lips. "You're escorting me to tonight's ball."

"Says who?" he asked as he realized the meaning behind Olivia's grin when he mentioned the ball.

Her dark hair fell over her shoulder and she peeked back at him, his hands rubbing against her back as he clipped her bra together. "But I'll be there," she said softly as he kissed her shoulder, rubbing it gently.

"Why the hell else do you think I agreed to go?" he mumbled as she turned around, leaning on her arms as the whisper of a grin curled her lips. "What?"

Her arms went around his neck, giggling as he smiled back at her. "Nothing." She giggled again as his lips fell to her neck, kissing the hollow of her throat. "Nothing at all."

"She didn't mention anything about this to me yesterday."

Bette turned away from the mirror, the smile from earlier gone. "Livy knew you'd say no if you knew. She just didn't want you to be lonely tonight."

He noted that she left out, _Especially since she'll be there on her husband's arm_. His jaw worked furiously as he stepped closer to Bette, his dark eyes hard. "So why the hell isn't she concerned with my loneliness every other day of the month?"

Her eyes narrowed and she stood toe to toe with Gregory. "Don't you dare say that," she spat out, instant anger flaming in her green eyes. "She's doing the best that she can." He turned away from her, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "You think you're the only one who's miserable and lonely?"

Regret and shame at his behavior sank into his soul as he glanced back at Bette, her hands on her hips. He shook his head and glanced away as she sighed and stepped closer to him.

"Armando was the king of this town. He was a surrogate father to Livy and she loved him- hell, we all loved him," she said softly as she put her hand on his shoulder. "She's too good a person to cut and run out now, even on AJ. She may not love him, but she won't hurt him any more right now if she can help it. And," she said after a moment, "isn't that why you love her?"

He nodded and shook off her touch as he turned around. "It's just-" he broke off abruptly and walked away from her before the fragile dam on his feelings broke. Not now, not in front of Bette of all people. "Never mind. Don't tell her about this," he ordered as he buttoned the tuxedo jacket and opened the door. "Shall we?" he asked as he extended his hand.

* * *

The Suit's chest shuddered as he exhaled, Julianna pushing off him and climbing out of the bed. "A kid?" 

She took a second pair of stockings from her wardrobe, pulling one gently up her leg before she stepped into a pair of black heels. Her hand rested on her hip in thought, her finger tapping before she glanced down and pulled off the torn panties, tossing them on the foot of the bed. The heels clicked on the hard wood as she walked back to the loveseat. She stepped into the gown, pulling it up and sliding her arms into the demi-sleeves.

With a nod to The Suit, she smoothed the velvet out across her abdomen as the long train swirled at her feet. "A child will link her to my son forever. Her mother left her when she was small…If Olivia were to have a child, she wouldn't leave it. And," she added as she clipped the necklace around her throat, "she wouldn't take it from its father." The baguettes glittered at her ears as she ran a silver comb through her hair, pinning it into a chignon. "She knows how important a father is to a child…Hers was all she had when she was young."

As Julianna drew the long train to the side and sat down on her vanity bench, The Suit twisted his wrists and grunted, "She's been married to your son for two years and hasn't gotten knocked up yet."

She dabbed the small brush into the tiny jar of shimmer and applied it to her eyelids with feather strokes. Another brush painted a dark red stain on her lips and she smacked them together as she turned around. The diamonds around her neck were cool as she touched them, straightening the necklace. "You leave that to me. But," she cautioned as picked up a small beaded clutch, "we need to wait until her father leaves before we act." She smiled cruelly at The Suit as she pinched her cheeks, lightly bruising them red. "She'll suffer more if she remains AJ's wife than she would dead because she'll know how close to freedom she is…and it'll be her childhood insecurities keeping her from it. She'll have no one to blame but herself."

The shredded panties stood out on the cream sheets, a twisted notion whispering from the recess of Julianna's mind. She reached for them, balling them up within her fingers as she leaned over The Suit. Red silk flashed in his vision before she shoved the crumpled material in his mouth, stifling his grunt of surprise. She patted his cheek lightly, her other hand swirling over his waist before she took him in her grasp. The squeeze was a promise for later as she whispered, "The help is gone for the evening and I'll be at the ball for several hours. I wouldn't want you to get any _ideas_ or be tempted to leave."

His eyebrows wiggled suggestively and he nodded as she stood up, the velvet gown swishing as she turned for the door.

"And remember," she said softly before she opened the door, "no one can hear you if you scream. _No one_."


	37. Night Music

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 37: "Night Music"

Bette accepted the tall flute of champagne from Gregory with a small smile. "Thanks Greggy," she grinned as she tapped her glass gently against his. The clink echoed between them as he grimaced at the pet name, causing her to chuckle as she raised the glass to her lips. "Cheer up," she said brightly as she winked at him over the rim, "only the people I like get special names."

"You hardly know me," he muttered as he glanced around the room. As he suspected, a full orchestra was in full swing on a stage in front of the room. The parquet dance floor before the stage was in use, dozens of couples moving in time to the symphonic music. Sporadic bursts of laughter and excited chatter created an oddly comforting atmosphere in the large ballroom.

"P_uh_lease," she sighed as she rolled her eyes. "Don't underestimate the power of the sisterhood." Her eyes roamed over the crowd, mouthing "hello" and waving to friends she spotted. "You men always seem to forget how talkative female friends can be, especially when the topic turns to lovers."

Gregory's brow arched as he turned to Bette, his fingers tightening around his glass of champagne. "Oh really?"

She nodded enthusiastically as she downed the rest of her champagne. "It took awhile, but I finally got it out of Livy." She had his rapt attention now, silent he stood before her. Bette bit back a giggle as she pictured the gears turning in his head, as he wondered how much she knew. "After I got her talking about you, she wouldn't stop. 'Gregory this-' and 'Gregory that-' Oy! That woman could go on and on about you for hours!" She paused and stood closer to him. "Though if I was getting mind blowing sex from a fantastic lover, I wouldn't stop talking about it either."

He cleared his throat and smirked at her. "Thank God. You don't need another reason to blather incessantly."

She sniffed and narrowed her eyes above a teasing grin. "Wipe off the shit-eating grin, Greggy." She chuckled and grabbed another glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. "I was only doing _you_ a favor-"

"Me a favor?"

"-but if you don't want to know what Livy's told me, we can talk about business. Or the decorations. Aren't they festive?"

Gregory shook his head. "Oh no," he said grandly as he took Bette's arm and led her to one of the tables cloaked in a festive red cloth, "don't let me deprive you." He sat next to her and waited expectantly.

"Well," she started as she gestured him closer, "she-"

* * *

Julianna followed AJ as he led her into the ballroom. The conversation from those immediately around them dropped off, only to be replaced by soft applause. AJ rubbed his mother's arm as she sobbed slightly and blinked furiously. "It's alright Maman," he whispered as the applause spread throughout the room like a wave rolling onto the beach. He nodded appreciatively before stepping aside to join in the tribute. 

In the doorway, Olivia hung on to her father's arm as Julianna stood alone in the center of a widening circle. Moses couldn't have parted the crowd better if he had tried. Even the musicians were applauding, their instruments cast aside as they rose to their feet.

Thomas leaned down and whispered in Olivia's ear, "Do they always get this sort of reception love?"

She nodded and turned to her father. "_Always_." Turning back to where Julianna stood, she added, "It's Armando really. He always hosted this ball." Over the enthusiastic applause, her eyes skimmed the crowd as she searched for Bette's distinctive hair. Where she'd find Bette, she'd find Gregory.

As the applause continued to ring forth, no end in sight, Julianna began to urge the crowd quiet with her hands. It had the reverse effect. Eager to show their loyalty and affection for the deceased Armando, the applause surged and high-pitched whistling joined in. She smiled at the crowd, continuing to press for quiet.

AJ beamed proudly as his mother stood tall and gracious before the gathering. Sharing Armando with the whole town had never been easy. People loved and respected his father. Looked up to him even. Armando was never solely his and Julianna's. He resented it when his father was alive, but now that he was dead it was somewhat comforting to share that grief with other people. Even if most were perfect strangers.

"Thank you," Julianna said as the clapping died away and she clasped her hands demurely in front of her. "Thank you all. These last few weeks-," she broke off as her hand flew to the base of her throat to accommodate the slight sob, "have been the hardest of my life. But my sweet prince is at peace. He would be s- so touch-." She sobbed again, louder this time as AJ moved in for her. He put his arm around her and looked out at the sea of concerned faces.

"Thank you all for coming," he said softly. "Please, enjoy the ball."

Thomas watched as AJ led Julianna through the crowd to the head table. She clung to him, her head bowed slightly. He shook his head and led Olivia into the ballroom as the orchestra struck up again. "She's really taken Armando's death hard, hasn't she?"

She glanced briefly at her father and then back to AJ and Julianna. "It would appear that way Poppy," she murmured distractedly as she spied Gregory and Bette at one of the back tables. The lights were turned low to allow the ballroom to glow with the flickering light from the large bayberry candles in the middle of each table. "I see Bette," she said. "Let's say hello."

Bette chuckled and took another sip of her champagne as Gregory rolled his eyes. "She didn't tell you that," he said disbelievingly.

She nodded her head enthusiastically. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye and all that other nonsense." To stress the truth in her statement, she crossed her fingers and held them over her heart. "Scout's honor."

"Don't lie," Olivia admonished as she walked up to them, her father a step behind. "You were never a scout."

Bette grinned and stood up. "I was too," she insisted. "They just kicked me out after the first day." She smiled at the furtive glance that passed between Gregory and Olivia as she turned her attention to the tall man that stood to Olivia's right. "Tommy! Glad to see you made it to our side of the pond." She discreetly pushed Olivia in Gregory's direction as she threw her arms around Thomas. "Good to see ya' big guy."

Thomas smiled affectionately and kissed Bette's cheek. "You as well. Still as boisterous as ever, I see."

Olivia's finger stroked the back of Gregory's hand, a gentle touch that sent a shiver up his arm. He took a step closer to her, catching a whiff of her perfume. Not the airy _Fleurs du Ciel_ this time. Something different. Slightly spicier, more exotic. More like her. She turned her head slightly, her blue eyes turning up to look at him. His hand grazed against hers with the barest of touches as the corners of her lips curled up to the heavens.

The voices of Bette and Thomas faded away as she turned to him fully, smiling shyly. "Are you mad?" she asked softly. Her eyes darted around them quickly, searching for the ears of the nosy before she turned back to him.

Gregory shifted closer to her, his knee rubbing against her thigh. The dress of deep red flowed freely down to the floor, the multiple layers of chiffon swirling around her feet. "I'm stuck with Bette for the evening," he pointed out with a small smile as his pinky finger latched onto hers. "Why would I be mad?"

She shook her head indulgently and bit back a smile. "She's not _that_ bad."

"You date her then."

The held back smile rushed forward as her eyebrows arched in surprise. "Dating? My, things are moving quickly between you two." She peeked back at Bette and Thomas before she faced Gregory again, amusement dancing across her face. "Should I be concerned?" she asked in a whisper.

His grip tightened around her pinky as the rest of his fingers wrapped around her hand in response. Their eyes met, his dark eyes boring into hers. The azure glinted as she tilted her head, a flash of silver as she smiled patiently. He squeezed her hand and caused her face to wrinkle as she giggled, hiding the soft melody behind the fingers of her other hand. Another flash of silver light, this time from the square cut diamond on her finger. It winked mockingly at him before she turned around as Thomas and Bette's conversation cut through them.

"When are you going to paint me?"

"Bette," Olivia chided as she picked up a glass of champagne, "you know my father doesn't like painting people." She smiled apologetically at her father as she pinched her friend affectionately.

As Bette pouted, Thomas chuckled and said, "I assure you it's nothing personal. I prefer to paint the landscape- naked, peaceful, and the utmost example of perfection."

"I can be naked."

Gregory snickered as he raised the flute of champagne to his lips as Olivia choked on hers and Thomas' jaw dropped. "I'll pay you _not_ to paint her," he stressed.

Olivia giggled and set her glass on the table. "Poppy, this is Gregory Richards. He's an associate of AJ's from New York." She turned to Gregory and smiled as he extended his hand. "This is my father, Thomas Blake," she said, quiet pride clinging to her introduction.

"An honor, Mr. Blake." He noted that Olivia and her father shared the same kind smile as he pulled his hand back. One that seemed to be directly connected to the spark in their shared blue eyes.

"Thomas, please." He looked from Gregory to Bette and back again. "You seem far too calm to be dating our Bette."

Bette saved them from the awkward pause that followed his innocent observation by chuckling loudly and taking Thomas' hand. "Don't be silly Tommy. Gregory and I aren't dating. He lost a bet, no pun intended, and had to escort me tonight. Come on," she said as she took his hand, "take a spin around the dance floor with me and I'll tell you all about it." She winked once at Gregory and Olivia before leading Thomas away.

"I suppose," Gregory said softly as he stepped closer to her, "that just leaves us." He held out his hand invitingly. "Care to dance?"

"With you?" She took his hand as her voice dropped to a whisper, "always."

Her hand braced his arm as their fingers wove together as the strains of gentle percussion surrounded them. His hand settled on the middle of her back, atop the flesh left bare by her gown. She leaned into him as he pulled her closer, their chests pressing against one and other. Her heels brought her ear even with his mouth and he couldn't resist whispering into it. "Did you really tell Bette that I, and this is a direct quote, have 'the cutest dimple on the sweetest cheeks this side of the Mississippi'?"

Olivia's eyes flew up in surprise as she snorted back laughter. "Oh God," she choked out before amused laughter bubbled up out of her throat. She hid her face as she continued to laugh, his chin brushing the top of her lowered head. "In my defense," she said after a moment as she looked back up at him, "'sweetest cheeks on this side of the Mississippi' was her contribution."

He watched as she brushed a tear of laughter out of her eyes and grinned sheepishly. "There's no defense for you," he teased as he tickled her palm with his finger. She squirmed and the chiffon skirt rustled against the crisp material of his pants. "None at all."

She sighed and smirked back up at him. "Whatever will you do with me?"

The quick staccato of trumpets couldn't have jolted him more than her seemingly virginal question. His hand fell sharply to the small of her back, his fingers grazing the top of her rear before he pinched softly. Her breath caught in her throat as he softly replied, "Oh, I can think of a few things." He smiled sweetly as he raised his hand up, his finger deliberately trailing her spine. She shivered as the orchestra cut off quickly, remnants of the prior music echoing around the ballroom.

A short older man with a dominant bald spot stood up from the head table, the handle of his silver fork tapping against his wine glass. "Excuse me! Excuse me!" he called out.

The ballroom came to a standstill as the entire gathering turned and looked up to face him. A breathy whisper from Olivia explained that he was the mayor and a long time friend of Armando's.

"I just wanted to welcome everyone to the twenty-seventh _Crystal Ball_." The scattering of applause died off as he looked down pointedly before quickly looking back up to the crowd. "This year's ball is a bit different. We're without our beloved host." He raised his glass towards the empty chair standing in honor at the head of the table. "But he'd be so disappointed with us if he knew that we were mourning him instead of celebrating." Julianna nodded after the mayor put his hand on her shoulder. "With that in mind, I thought that we could appreciate a bit of good news. It was two years ago this past December first that-"

"Oh God," Olivia gasped as she stepped away from Gregory.

He looked questioningly at her as the mayor continued, "Armando's son got married." He chuckled as he looked across the sea of listening faces. "Most of us were there. It was a pretty good party." Uniformed laughter rippled through the crowd. The mayor raised his glass again and said happily, "To AJ and Olivia!"

Happy applause and shouts of well wishes echoed throughout the ballroom as the conductor of the orchestra tapped his baton. The orchestra swelled as AJ stood up from the head table, a broad smile on his face as he began to push his way through the crowd.

Olivia turned to Gregory, her eyes pleading apologies and a smile frozen on her face before she turned away. Her hand, the one that was linked with his just a few moments ago, outstretched to AJ.

Gregory couldn't help but cringe as AJ pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her back and kissing her for a long moment. The crowd's enthusiasm increased and AJ led her back to the middle of the dance floor.

He reached out for champagne from a passing waiter, never taking his eyes off the spectacle in front of him. AJ twirling her around the dance floor, a proud smile on his face as he continued to crush her to him. The sweet champagne was vile in Gregory's mouth as it swirled down his throat. The applause from those around him dulled to a faint roar, his eyes never leaving her.

It was a slight gesture. One so subtle that even he almost missed it. Her hair was up tonight. A sweeping updo that sculpted her hair away from her face. The ruby and diamond drop earrings fell from her ears, kissing her lobes as he so often did. Gently, as if checking to make sure her appearance lay unmolested, her fingers skimmed over the sparkling stones. Again and again, she repeated the motion, her voice ringing in his ears as if she was standing there next to him.

"_Even in his arms, I still think of you. You're first in my heart and mind…always. You are love."_


	38. Dawn Before You Know It

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 38: "Dawn Before You Know It"

The strand of tiny white lights on the Christmas tree twinkled, stars suspended in the dark green boughs. It stood in front of the patio doors, its glow reflected in the glass against the night. A medley of pine, cinnamon, and other warm spices lingered in the air. The room was dark, save for the faint blush of the tree.

Thomas tucked his hands into the pockets of his robe as he leaned against the doorjamb. "It's just after midnight, love," he said softly. Olivia turned around with a guilty grin as he sat down on the sofa next to her. Her knees were drawn up to her chin and her hands clasped on top of her feet. He chuckled softly as he looked at her. How many times had he found her like this when she was a child?

"I'm not tired," she whispered back. The shadows played across her father's face but there was just enough light for her to see the smile on his face. "What?" she asked with a giggle.

He turned to her, crossing his leg over the other. "Do you remember when you were a little girl?" He ignored her soft groan and continued, "You'd sneak out of bed most every night and creep down the stairs to watch the tree. I'd wake up in the morning to find the tree all lit up, though I remembered turning it off before going to sleep. And you-" he chuckled as the memory played in his mind like a film reel, "-you were curled up fast asleep underneath the tree."

Olivia's shoulders shook with laughter as she stretched her legs and faced her father. She wiped a tear of amusement out of her eyes and placed a hand on her father's shoulder. "I was always so afraid you'd catch me coming down the stairs," she confessed with a soft giggle. "The stairs always creaked so loudly and-" she shook her head bashfully as she trailed off and glanced back at the lit up tree, "-I'd lay on the floor beneath the tree and just stare up through the branches. All the ornaments twinkled from the lights and I just remember feeling in that moment, nothing was wrong." She looked back to her father and added softly, "Everything was right with the world."

Thomas sighed as she turned back to the tree. His daughter's quiet melancholy disturbed him because he knew how she loved the holidays. The way she impishly searched for her gifts in the days leading up to Christmas morning, even when she was long past the age of believing in Father Christmas. Her delighted giggle when he showed her how to bake sugar cookies and the way her eager little hands cut out the dough in the shapes of leaping reindeer, tolling bells, and praying angels. And the way she cuddled against him on Christmas Eve, listening to him read a story about children eagerly awaiting Saint Nick.

The Olivia who sat next to him now was the ghost of the woman he saw at this time last year. Her spine was ramrod straight, as if she was unable to find comfort even now. The faint light from the tree just made her face seem all that much sadder and her hand fidgeted. Between her anxious fingers, he spied a pair of diamond earrings.

He smoothed down the hair on the back of her head before resting his arm around her shoulders. She quickly leaned back against him, tucking the earrings in her pocket as she rested her head on his shoulder. "And is everything right with the world now?" he asked softly.

She shrugged in response and closed her eyes. "I don't think it ever was Poppy," she whispered. "You just don't realize that when you're a child." She sighed and muttered disdainfully, "Rose colored glasses."

Thomas frowned and rubbed the top of her arm thoughtfully. This was definitely not his Olivia. Unease settled in his chest at the thought of leaving her in a week without knowing what was upsetting her so much. "Is it that AJ had to leave yesterday for Paris?" he guessed blindly. "And that he won't be here for New Year's?"

Olivia shook her head and opened her eyes slowly, turning them up to him. Loss tainted her normally bright blue eyes and he struggled to think of when during his visit she seemed happy. She was thrilled to see him when he arrived and that level of excitement was only rivaled by her preparations for the ball-

When that man, the one escorting Bette, never took his eyes off her.

He looked back at the tree, staring blindly at the lights as it all came back to him. Yes, at the ball. She was happy then, a brilliant smile lighting up her face for the first time since he arrived. And she laughed. She laughed when she danced with him- what was his name? Gregory. Yes, he saw her laughing when she danced with Gregory. And Gregory laughed with her.

Thomas sat up quickly, as it all fell into place. Then she danced with AJ and he remembered the smile on her face seemed forced. And Bette left him to stand next to Gregory, who barely registered her presence. Gregory, whose eyes never left Olivia. Gregory, who received her precious smile and genuine, heartfelt laughter. And AJ, who didn't.

He glanced over at Olivia, sitting back against the sofa as she stared down at her hands. "Tell me about Gregory," he said softly.

* * *

The dark cloaked Julianna as she crept quietly down the hall. She tightened the belt of her robe and moved off the carpet runner to the wood floor. Her slippers silenced her steps and she rested her fingers lightly on the banister that overlooked the foyer. She strained her ears but they were there: the hushed voices coming from the first floor. Olivia and Thomas. She backed away from the railing slowly and smirked knowingly. Thomas seemed to be almost as gullible as her Armando was. All it took was a late night visit to him and the quiet confession that Olivia seemed depressed. Unhappy. Thinner than usual. Perhaps she was still grieving? 

Whatever other "symptoms" she concocted were of little consequence. Thomas was immediately concerned and it took him just over an hour to get to Olivia. He'd keep her down there for a while, interrogating her until he figured out what was bothering her. For hours if necessary, getting them both out of her way. With AJ gone too, it was the perfect time to peruse through Olivia's belongings.

She shook her head as she continued down the hall. Olivia would never confess her illicit affair to her father. Both were still too scarred from her mother's abandonment. She clucked her tongue softly as she stopped in front of the closed door. The weaknesses of others were like money to her. After awhile, she would cash them in.

With quiet care, Julianna pushed open the door and stepped into AJ and Olivia's bedroom. The door closed with a soft click and she stood still as her eyes adjusted. It was darker than dark in the room, an overcast sky hiding the moon and the curtains drawn against the windows that opened onto the beach. From the pocket of her robe, she removed a tiny flashlight. The thin beam swung across the room, flecks of dust caught in the yellow light. They danced in the light as came to a stop on Olivia's chest of drawers.

She stepped over to it, her fingers closing over the knob with the dainty rose painted on it. A gift from Armando, for his new daughter in law. She sniffed dismissively as she pulled it open slowly, the honey colored wood groaning as the drawer rubbed against the tracking. A lingerie drawer. She jutted her chin in determination and began to wade through the colorful garden of silk, satin, and lace.

Olivia was feminine through and through, it appeared. The drawer was practically brimming with a mix of imported items. Multiple styles in every color under the sun. Who in their right mind would deny themselves this luxury?

As she picked through Olivia's drawer she thought of a lover she had taken several years ago. He was nearly as indulgent in his tastes as she was. For one rendezvous, he requested that she come to him wearing cotton panties. She grimaced now as she remembered the way the plebeian material rubbed against the flesh that was accustomed to fine silk. Like sandpaper, she had complained at the time. Her lover smirked before grabbing for her.

Julianna swung the flashlight slowly from side to side, over the rainbow of panties. There, towards the back of the drawer and nestled against an ivory satin, was a pinstriped tie. She sighed at Olivia's carelessness as she pulled the alien accessory out of the drawer. It wasn't even completely buried, but half hidden. Anyone who opened the drawer would be able to see it. How many times did she herself pilfer small tokens from her lovers over the years? At least she had the good sense to hide them well. Cufflinks, tie bars, handkerchiefs, lighters, even a gold pen once. But if memory served her, never a tie.

She rolled the tie up like a log and pressed it deep into her pocket. It would make excellent kindling. She sifted through the panties, feeling the corners and then beneath the drawer for any other hidden treasures. Nothing. And nothing in the three other drawers either.

She turned back around, swinging the flashlight to the opposite wall. Ten steps and she was crouching in front of her nightstand. A tin of mints, an extra pair of reading glasses, several paper back books, and an address book. Out of curiosity, she took out the book covered in blue cloth and opened it to "R". Strike two for her adulterous daughter-in-law. It was there, halfway down the back of the first page, in Olivia's neat script.

Gregory H. Richards  
200 Central Park South  
Apt. 1805  
New York, New York

The phone number too. She shook her head and returned the address book before closing the drawer. At least she had the common sense to not leave behind any written evidence of her assignations.

Last place to check: the closet. The flashlight beamed along the floor, across the neat rows of shoes. She paused, tilting her head as she listened to make sure no one was coming down the hall. After a moment, it was clear she was still safe. She quickly brushed through the hangers of shirts and coats. Not good enough to hide anything worth hiding.

Near the back, before her half of the closet turned into AJ's half, was a corner of shelving. She rifled through them, feeling through a variety of pants. Her long nails clicked against something at the back of one. Turning the flashlight to this new spot, she wrapped her fingers around the small box and pulled it out.

A small pink plastic box. Victory sung in her heart as she held the tiny flashlight between her teeth, freeing her hands to pry open the box, like an eager child on Christmas morning. The latex cup stared back at her, sitting there innocently as the breath caught in her throat.

She knew it!

With a hand shaking in anticipation, she reached for the twist at the back of her head. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders as she pulled out the thin pick that held it together. She pressed the point of the pick into the diaphragm, the latex straining against it until it gave up and collapsed. She tilted the light at the hole. Tiny, barely even noticeable unless one checked it with a fine toothcomb. Why only one? Again and again, she poked tiny holes in the diaphragm in different parts of it until she counted twenty.

The box closed with a snap and she returned it to the shelf, straightening the pants it hid behind. She flicked off the flashlight and returned it to her pocket. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as she opened the door a crack and peered out into the hallway. Seeing no one, she stepped out of the room and closed the door shut behind her. Passing the foyer, she heard Olivia snap loudly at her father and she grinned as she hurried on. It appeared she was getting more than she hoped for tonight.

* * *

Olivia's eyes narrowed and she glanced away, her blue eyes hard and guarded when she turned back to him. "Gregory?" she asked carefully. 

He nodded as she left the sofa and stood in front of the tree, her arms hugged to her chest. She was dark against the white light from the tree and she turned her back on him as he said, "Yes, Gregory. He seemed like a nice chap."

She glanced over her shoulder at Thomas and turned away again just as quick after she nodded. "Yes, he does, doesn't he?" Her words came quickly, rushing forth from her lips as she continued, "But I've only met him a few times."

He stood up and walked over to her, noting how she jumped away from him when he put his hand on her shoulder. The way she turned away and kept her back to him as she drifted around the armchair and over to the dark fireplace. Hiding her eyes. The eyes that said more than her mouth ever could. "Just a few?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she said, the pitch of her voice rising as she nodded enthusiastically. "He's only here every few weeks to do business with AJ."

Thomas frowned and put his hands in his pockets as the frayed string holding her self-control together seemed to unravel. She rubbed both of her arms frantically, as if she was trying desperately to send warmth into her soul. As if the candle of life in her had dimmed and she was trying to revive it.

"Olivia?" He stepped closer to her, only to her take another step away from him. With a frown, he stood still and watched her back. "Love?" _Do you have feelings for this Gregory?_

She whirled around, the skirt of her robe rising away from her body. "What?" Her eyes blazed and she held her hands expectantly out from her body. "What? What do you want from me?"

This harshness was unexpected, the unflinching anger that boiled in her eyes as she gazed at him. He had only witnessed it once before, when he made the mistake of bringing up her mother. They were at Heathrow, waiting for the plane that would take her to a university half way around the world.

It was an innocent observation, one that was made to signify the transition from youth to adult, girl to woman. How the excitement brimming in her eyes and the way she anxiously shifted her feet was something he once saw in her mother. At once, Olivia's eyes narrowed and coldly spat out that she never wanted to be compared to Siobhan again. She turned her back on him then too and excused herself to the restroom.

All Thomas could do now was look at her, the way her chest heaved as she fought to control her breathing. She reached up and angrily wiped a tear out of her eye, her other hand slipping into her pocket.

"Nothing love," he said softly as he extended his hands in defeat. "I'm just worried about you, that's all."

"There's nothing to worry about." She turned back to the fireplace, her foot absently kicking the point of the fire poker. "There's nothing to be done anyway." Her shoulders sagged and she glanced back at him, her eyes wilted in sadness. "I don't want to discuss this any longer."

_Discuss him_, Thomas corrected. Nodding in reluctant agreement, he took a step closer and was relieved when she didn't back away. "Fine love. Whatever you want." He took her hand and rubbed it, frowning out cold hers was in his grasp. He glanced at the clock on the mantle and turned his eyes to her, smiling brightly. "What do you say to a spot of tea?"

Olivia nodded and moved closer, allowing him to wrap his arm around her shoulder. He kissed the side of her head and whispered, "I love you, Olivia."

"Always Poppy?"

The air rushed out of his chest in surprise before he crushed her to him. "What a question," he scolded gently. She gripped him back, the robe bunching beneath the iron grip her fingers had on it. "Always love. No matter what." Her body shuddered and she pressed herself further into his embrace. Her breathing was shallow and her face hid against the lapel of his robe. "No matter what," he repeated. "Tell me what's wrong," he pled softly.

She pulled back, a sad smile gracing her lips as she shook her head. "Please Poppy." She bit her lip and backed out of his arms. "It'll work itself out eventually." She turned away quickly, calling out over her shoulder, "I'm going to bed. You should too. It'll be dawn before you know it."

Thomas watched her hurry out of the room, her head bent down to the ground. He shoved his hand into the pocket of his robe and turned around to the tree. For decidedly worse, his daughter had changed. He sighed and hung his head as he berated himself for not pushing Olivia more that day on the beach. He didn't know about Gregory then and she may have opened up more if he didn't come up.

He glanced back at the door she fled through. He'd never get her to open up now. She was nothing if not stubborn. If she didn't want to talk about it, she wouldn't. Even if she made herself sick over it. He just hoped it didn't get to that.


	39. When I Was a Theater Major

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 39: "When I Was a Theater Major"

Roughly thirty miles away from the chaos and congestion of Manhattan was the small village of Oyster Bay. The exclusive town on Long Island's North Shore was a haven for those who worked in the city and craved the culture that it offered, but who wished to do without the crime and noise. For those who made the almost two-hour roundtrip commute, it was worth it. One of those people was Maxwell Richards.

When Maxwell married the only daughter of Christopher Holbrook, of _The Holbrook Group_, he vowed that he would give her anything and everything that would make her happy. What would make her happiest, Eleanor told him, would be to live in the same town that she was raised in. Without delay, he moved them into a newly restored, English country style home an acceptable distance away from his in-laws. And there they remained.

The large home sat on a wooded piece of property that opened onto the harbor. Winter's sun faded away, the spindly branches of the trees silhouetted against the graying sky. A thick curtain of snow fell to the ground, fragmenting the yellow glow from the lantern swinging in the wind at the end of the long dock. The flakes first appeared fifteen minutes ago but fell hard enough that the green of the rolling lawns quickly disappeared. A sharp tap against one of the wineglasses turned Gregory's attention away from the window and back to the dining room table.

Maxwell stood at the opposite head of the table, his glass raised. As a hush fell over the intimate gathering, he cleared his throat and looked across to Eleanor. "Your mother vetoed my suggestion that we have this dinner at the country club." He winked playfully as Eleanor smiled guiltily. "She's forever been a fan of keeping things quiet and limited to family, but you boys knew that." After a pause for the interruption of knowing chuckles, he continued, "So it is to her great pleasure that the only guests at this anniversary dinner are you kids." He glanced around the faces of his three sons and two daughter-in-laws before resting on his wife's. "Forty one years," he said quietly with the smallest of smiles.

Gregory watched as his father's hand trembled slightly and his other hand fluttered to his eyebrow. His mother sniffed tellingly and smiled encouragingly at Maxwell. And for the first time, Gregory understood the emotional connection between his parents. They were affectionate with each in front of their children, as affectionate as the times would allow. But once a year, on January seventh, social mores were forsaken and their romance was celebrated in excess.

And he understood it now.

He understood the softness in his father's eyes, eyes that were normally hard and ready for the kill of a business deal. The way his mother's cheeks were tinged red with the blush of a schoolgirl. The secret smiles they exchanged over the rims of their wine glasses. The longing glances when they thought no one was looking.

Whoever said that love changes a person and does crazy things to them was right. As right as anything could be or dream of being.

He settled against the high backed chair, rubbing the stem of the wine glass as his father continued speaking. Like everyone else, his eyes were on his father but his mind was thousands of miles away. Three thousand miles to the west, to be specific.

Her eyes were the first thing he noticed about her. Those beautiful blue eyes that grew seemingly darker as you gazed into them, small flecks of violet swimming in the azure. _Mesmerizing_. How even when she was sad, her eyes were still the loveliest sight he ever beheld. And how they could talk to him when her voice was silent, her lips and mouth otherwise occupied.

Gregory shifted slightly in his chair and unconsciously rubbed the side of his neck, an expanse of flesh her full lips often found. When her heels were off and the height difference between them realized, she went for the easy access of his neck, alternately nipping and kissing at it until he lowered his lips to hers. He was shocked the first time she stood before him barefoot, how the top of her head barely skimmed his chin. Her vibrant personality eclipsed her petite frame, making it rather difficult to just scoop her into his arms and shield her from everything bad. The way he wanted to. But she had a mind of her own and an inner passion that he absolutely loved about her.

It would be something to spend the rest of his life with her. To know what she was like in an average day. To lie in bed with her late at night and whisper sleepily to one and other. To kiss her shoulder as he drifted off to sleep every night, his arms around her and his face lost in her mass of dark hair. For those enchanting eyes to be the first thing he awoke to, glazed over with sleep but lit up from the tired smile gracing her face.

A bubble of laughter burst at the table and Gregory forced himself out of his reverie. His mother was shaking her head in exasperation as his father's toast segued to include a story involving Bill's birth. She sighed indulgently and cut in. "Maxwell, tell the story correctly," she chided. "It was pouring rain, the traffic was moving slower than honey, and I was in labor."

"And thus my grand entry into the world: in a car, on the side of the L.I.E., in Queens," Bill said dryly.

Maxwell sat down as more laughter erupted and faded into the background as Gregory raised the glass to his lips, the rich Cabernet blooming on his lips. As the crystal goblet fell from his mouth, he glanced around the table. His parents were the strongest couple he knew, a perfectly matched union of wills and intelligence. A great love that not only withstood the test of time, but also grew deeper as the years passed. As if they were two halves of one soul.

It would not have been unreasonable to assume that the solid marriage that his parents created would serve as an example to his brothers. And it did, for one of them. He eyed Bill, his arm casually draped around Madeline's shoulders as she talked to Eleanor with grand gestures. With a laugh, she concluded, "So the girls peaked into the bassinette and stared down at Audrey for a minute. Then Lucy turned back to me with the widest eyes and asked, "Mommy, can we send her back?'" She smiled at Bill as he squeezed her arm and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger.

Eleanor shook her head and smiled in amusement. "That reminds me of when Bill was born-"

"What is this? 'Nothing but embarrassing stories about Bill' night?" he sighed. Madeline elbowed him playfully in the ribs as Eleanor hushed him.

"When we brought Bill home from the hospital," his mother began loudly over Bill's continued protests, "the twins had just turned three but Max wasn't at all interested in the baby." At the sound of his name, Max's conversation with his father died off as they turned in Eleanor's direction. "But Abigail was enchanted by her baby brother. She slept on the floor next to his cradle for months. We would let her fall asleep in the nursery and then carry her back to her bed but she would wake up in the middle of the night and go back to his side. She was fascinated with him."

Eleanor fell quiet as she recalled the way the eager little face would peak around the open nursery door, the brown ringlets bouncing excitedly as she skipped over to the cradle to check on "her" baby. Her hand trembled as she reached for her water, the cubes clinking against the side of the glass as she saw her baby girl floating face down in the pool. The once tight ringlets rippling lifelessly in the water as she and Maxwell dove fully clothed into the water, praying it wasn't too late.

As a wave of emotions washed across Eleanor's face and the stilted silence grew, Gregory cleared his throat and quipped, "Well, I don't understand why anyone would be fascinated with Bill." He chuckled as his brother's jaw dropped in mock insult and teasing laughter from Madeline and Max filled the pregnant silence. Maxwell sighed in relief and smiled as Eleanor ginned behind her glass as Max's wife, Lorraine, rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her Manhattan.

As the laughter dwindled, Bill leaned in as close as the table would allow and gestured across to Gregory. "It's because I was born in Queens, wasn't it?"

"That's _exactly_ why, Bill." Gregory smirked as Bill sat back, his arm immediately wrapping around Madeline again. He watched as she cupped the side of his brother's face and whispered in his ear. _Probably some soft words of love_, he thought as he turned away for privacy's sake.

Maxwell looked across to Eleanor and splayed his hands on the table. "Coffee in the lounge?" he asked. He glanced at each of his sons before adding, "I just bought a thirty year old bottle of Yquem at auction in Bronxville this past weekend."

"Rare. Good investment," Max supplied. "You should hang onto it and sell it in a few years. You'd make a bundle."

As Maxwell opened his mouth to respond, Lorraine muttered, "As if your father didn't already have more money than God." She bit back a hiccup and with a wobbly hand, she held out her empty glass. "Make me another drink, _please_."

Like a stopper killing the flame of a candle, conversation died at the long table. Eleanor's glass hit the table with a soft thud as all eyes turned to the woman sitting to the left of Gregory. Max's cheeks blazed as he reached across the table and snatched the glass from his wife's outstretched hand. "You've had enough," he hissed.

With a sardonic chuckle, Lorraine pushed herself back from the table. "Max, honey," she said with a slight slur as she stood up, "you need to have more fun with life. Why, when I was a student-, when I was a theater major, there was no such thing as enough." Her shoulders shook as she burst into a fit of absurd laughter. "Jacqueline Susann," she choked out, "said 'once is never enough'."

Madeline shifted uncomfortably and Bill and Gregory's eyes met briefly as Lorraine's pealing laughter echoed off the room's high ceiling. The legs on Eleanor's chair shrieked on the wood floor like nails on a chalkboard as she stood up quickly. "Coffee in the lounge sounds like an excellent idea. Shall we?" she asked as she looked around the table. She walked around to Lorraine and linked her arm though hers. "Coffee will clear your head," she said soothingly as she led her daughter-in-law out of the room, Madeline in their wake.

Maxwell wrenched around in his seat, watching until his wife and their daughters-in-law turned the corner. "I thought you said she wasn't drinking as heavily," he said with quiet inflection as he turned back to his sons. Max shrugged, causing his father to shake his head in disgust. "Don't give me that. Fix it," he ordered strongly, Max's cheeks burning in response. "Good." He stood up and buttoned his suit coat closed. "Yquem in the lounge then."

Gregory followed his father out of the dining room, only pausing once to glance at Max. His eldest brother sat quietly at the table, staring down at the empty glass he snatched from his wife's hand. Empty. Most likely like all the dreams they once had for the future. As strong as his parents marriage was, that's how weak Max's was. Weak because of his brother's actions.

Whether by choice or stupidity, Gregory wasn't quite sure, his elder brother was notoriously indiscreet with his extramarital affairs. Worse still, he didn't really seem to like his wife or their children all that much. His late nights "at the office" became later and later, his weekend "business trips" became more frequent.

He shook his head as he considered the polar opposites that his brothers represented. One who loved his wife without limit, who cherished their children and the life they built together. And one who had all of that…but shunned it all.

Waiting this long for Olivia, waiting this long to open up his life and share it with her, just allowed him to realize what he wanted their life to be like. He wanted her. He wanted to cherish her. To see her everyday and still not have that be enough. She became the beacon of light in his heart, filling the darkness with hope for the future and love. He wanted her by his side, as his partner in every way. She deserved nothing less and she wouldn't accept anything less than that. She had already done that and was paying the price for it. He didn't want her to end up like Lorraine: sad and lonely. And regretting the day she vowed to spend the rest of her life with him.

He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and rocked back on the heels of his feet before turning into the lounge. He heard the hushed conversation of his parents and Madeline in the lounge, Lorraine's voice absent. He leaned against the wall and envisioned his life in one year. In fifteen. In fifty. No matter which way he considered it, he kept coming back to Olivia. If it was his past to be a reluctant bachelor, his future was her. He'd spend every day of his life making sure that Olivia was happy. That her life was exceptional, full of happiness, and everything she hoped it would be.

Because neither of them deserved anything less.


	40. The Art of War

****

NOTE: This chapter is RATED ADULT for some sexual content.

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 40: "The Art of War"

The soft chamber music hung low in the dining room, filling the empty silence. The ivory tapers had burnt low, beads of wax dripping down the stumps to the hardened pools at the base. Julianna watched as Olivia raised the glass of wine to her lips, the faint candlelight reflecting off the crystal. As she returned the glass to the table, it hit the lip of the plate with a loud ping. A bullet through the thick curtain of silence.

Whereas Olivia usually only had two glasses of wine with dinner, she was now starting her fourth. A strange sensation overcame Julianna as she watched her daughter-in-law. Her eyes were downcast and she barely looked up as the meal progressed. Conversation at the table was forced, as it was just the two of them. Olivia's voice was heavy and her responses were drawn out, as if it was a chore for her hold a conversation. It was doubtful that this malaise was due to AJ's extended absence. She personally was always rather celebratory when Armando would be gone for this length of time. But Olivia did have a fairytale view on romance that she, thankfully, did not have.

She decided that the new sensation she felt was one of happiness. Deliriously so. _That whore deserves everything she's getting…and more_. She smirked behind her own glass of wine as Olivia pushed her plate away with a small sigh. "Is there something wrong with the braised pork, dear? You've hardly touched it."

Olivia looked up and forced an apologetic smile. The heavy wine had stained her lips and she licked at them unconsciously. "Oh no," she assured. "It's lovely, thank you." She nodded at Therese, who stood silently in the corner with her hands clasped lightly in front of her. "Perfect even." She settled against the high back of the chair as the young maid cleared the plates and disappeared back into the kitchen. Julianna watched her expectantly until she finally admitted, "I'm just not very hungry tonight."

She smiled serenely at Olivia, pleased that she finally got her chatting. With a sympathetic smile, she leaned closer and said, "I know what you mean. Neither of us should be eating." The wine swirled in her glass before she placed it back on the antique table. "The holidays just blew my diet to hell." A disarming chuckle that echoed friendliness drew a polite smile from Olivia as she left her napkin bunched on the table, a sure sign that she would be excusing herself in a matter of moments. "It'll be nice to have AJ home tomorrow. To have a man around the house again."

Olivia paused and looked at Julianna, as she cut a piece of pork and raised it to her lips. "Yes, I suppose so," she said quietly. The Pinot Grigio was smooth down her throat as Julianna hummed, slicing more of the pork into tiny, perfect square bites.

The handle of the knife was heavy in Julianna's hand. "It was thoughtful of your father to visit with us as long as he did. Did he return home safely?" Olivia's wistful nod would have struck Julianna as sad were it not the emotion she was hoping to see. _How lost she must be now, without her usual trio of male admirers_. Armando loved her, but he was dead now. Thomas went back to England, seemingly unsuccessful in drawing the truth from his daughter. And Gregory hadn't arrived in town yet for their monthly tryst. Poor Olivia was all alone. All alone.

She set the utensils to the side and took a sip out of her wine glass. With a satisfied sigh, she looked at Olivia. "AJ has been so busy lately, hasn't he?" Olivia looked at Julianna in surprise as she continued, "He's been overseas for the past few weeks for all of those meetings and when he comes back he has more meetings to take."

"You're right," Olivia murmured as her hands fell to her lap, "he has been busy."

Julianna's blond head nodded sympathetically. "That must be rather difficult for you," she said quietly, "with AJ being gone so much and so busy with work when he is here."

Olivia squirmed uncomfortably in her chair and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I suppose that the situation isn't much different from yours and Armando's."

"Well, that's true. But I did have the advantage of having a special man to keep me company." She paused dramatically while the younger woman paled. If one had looked close enough, they would've realized that Julianna's seemingly sweet smile was more of a satisfied smirk. "I was lucky and had AJ to keep me company."

Nervous laughter, tinged with relief, bubbled up out of Olivia's throat. "Oh yes. Of course." She anxiously drummed her fingers on the table and chewed on her lip as the speed of her heartbeat increased slightly.

"AJ," Julianna continued, "was a great comfort to me during the lonely days when Armando was away." She sighed reminiscently and shook her head slightly, a wisp of hair falling out of the loose twist. "Now he's all grown up, with his own responsibilities to his business…and his wife. Which is why I think it's rather trivial," she argued, "that AJ be forced to take time out of his busy schedule to accommodate men like Gregory Richards." She patted her mouth calmly with her napkin as Olivia choked on her wine. "Are you alright, dear?"

She turned away from Julianna, coughing into her napkin as she waved her concern away. With a rasp, she coughed once more and took a sip of ice water. "I'm fine." She cupped her flushed cheeks and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "What did you mean before? About AJ and Gregory?"

The degree of panic in Olivia's question was music to Julianna's ears. She watched Olivia's face, her eyes unblinking and her face wrinkled in a frown. _If she keeps frowning like that, she'll regret that in the years to come_. The one piece of advice her money hungry mother consistently drilled into her head. _If only Mother could see me now!_

She cleared her throat and forced the suggestions of seriousness and concern into her voice. "Well, if AJ didn't have to sit in on such unnecessary meetings, he could be free to be at home." She smoothed out a wrinkle in the peach tablecloth and continued, "Men like Gregory Richards are power hungry and absolutely consumed with their work. And I should know."

Was Olivia's mind reeling yet? Was she furiously racking her brain for possibilities as to where I'm going with all this? Is she absolutely panicked yet? Is she wondering if I know about her affair? Is she going over every detail of the past few months in her mind, wondering if there was some clue, some detail that revealed the truth? Is she afraid yet? Does she fear me?

"How?"

Julianna feigned surprise and tapped her knife lightly against the neck of the wine glass. "Why," she said as she drew in a deep breath, "Armando and I have been friends of the Richards for years."

"Is that so?" she asked softly with a glance at Julianna. She sat next to her at the head of the table, calmly carrying on a conversation with the daughter-in-law she had clashed with since they were first introduced. Since Armando's death though, she began opening up and talking to her more. Before they carried on stilted conversations, heavy in civility and less in honest emotion. Now, conversation between them was becoming a common occurrence. It was…different. When she had told Bette about Julianna's turn around, her friend was rather disappointed. Julianna needed a new nickname, Bette declared. "Satan with breasts" just wouldn't do anymore.

"Oh yes." She nodded as Therese cleared her dinner plates and left the room again. "Eleanor and Maxwell are a bit older, but Armando was very fond of them. We spent several summers in Sag Harbor and Newport with them."

"So AJ and Gregory have known each other for many years then?"

Julianna nodded enthusiastically. "Since they were babies," she clarified. "Of course they couldn't be more different." She shook her head and clucked her tongue sadly. "His poor mother." She met Olivia's eyes briefly before glancing away. "But I really shouldn't say anything more on the subject."

"Oh no," Olivia urged quickly. "Go on."

She busied herself by pouring wine, studiously ignoring Olivia's pleas. She sipped the wine slowly, eyeing her daughter-in-law over the rim. "Well," she said as she set the glass back on the table and leaned in conspiratorially, "I'm really not one to gossip, but since it's just you…" She smiled at Olivia and continued, "Gregory is one of those men that attract women because of his good looks and his obscenely large bank account." She gestured Olivia close. "Armando once confided in me that Gregory taking over when his father retires, even though he's the third born son." She sat back in the chair with a sigh and continued, "He was always a polite child- boarding school manners will do that to you- but there was an arrogance there that I always found slightly disturbing."

The younger woman sat frozen, her undivided attention bestowed on her mother-in-law. Every word taken in and absorbed. She picked up her wine glass and hid a smile behind it. She was just _that_ good. "Armando received the New York papers for years," Julianna explained after a moment, "and the society columns were just brimming with the names of the debutantes he stepped out with. And didn't he escort your friend Beth to the _Crystal Ball_?" Without waiting for Olivia to answer, she continued, "Men like Gregory don't stay with just one woman."

Olivia cleared her throat after Julianna's silence indicated she had reached the end of her piece. "Perhaps," she suggested softly after a moment, "he's just waiting for the right woman to come along?"

She was trying too hard. Olivia's tone was too neutral, her voice too clipped to pass for anything other than a poor attempt at control. To control the uncontrollable was an action of the foolish. "Men," Julianna said in between patronizing chuckles, "are fickle creatures. Romance, my dear, grand and sweeping love affairs with a soul mate that you've waited your whole life for don't exist. It is a mistake to think that passion and other relations are the foundation for marriage." Victory sang in her dark heart as Olivia's face fell slowly and defeat clouded her blue eyes. "Men, like Gregory for example, aren't the marrying kind. When intimacy in the bedroom dries out, so does the relationship."

"I see."

"Men need sex." Julianna noted the way Olivia flinched and quickly swallowed the remainder of her wine in one gulp. She chuckled bashfully and reached across for Olivia's hand, taking it lightly in her grasp. "I apologize for being so blunt, but it is just us women tonight." Olivia's dark head nodded in agreement as she continued, "Whoever believes that men like Gregory could be faithful is a fool. Men like that just aren't faithful."

"But Arman-"

"Was not that type of man," Julianna interrupted.

The approaching footsteps of Therese silenced the rest of their conversation. She laid the tray on the table and began setting out the delicate china cups for coffee and bowls of pear pudding. Olivia waved off the dessert but took the coffee, immediately adding the milk and sugar before sipping at it gingerly.

"Then there are men like AJ," Julianna said softly. "Men who need others. The support of his friends and family. Men whose first love is not their work, but the family and friends and who love them." She picked at the pear pudding, her lips closing around the crumb topping. "I know my son. He's thrown himself into work now because he's grieving. His work is the one connection left that he has to his father." She pushed aside her dessert and stared intently at Olivia. "But work won't substitute for his father. He needs us, both of us. We're all he has now." She smiled up at Olivia. "It'll be nice to have AJ home," she reiterated.

Olivia sat next to her, looking lost and at least a million miles away. She stared down at her coffee, a whirlpool swirling in the creamy brown liquid. _Was it Gregory she saw_?

Purposely tapping her spoon against the side of the bowl, she said loudly, "But enough talk about that. I did want to wait until AJ got home to mention this, but I've decided to make a few changes in the house."

"Changes?"

"Yes. Since Arm-, November, I've lost interest in running the day-to-day activities of the house." She sniffed and continued, "It just seems rather pointless now. Henri is too old to handle everything and you have your own responsibilities to your job. So, I've hired someone to move in and run the household."

"Who?"

"Oh," Julianna said nonchalantly, "he worked for Armando for years. He was the chief of security at the Paris offices and he came here at Armando's request several years ago. His name is-"

"You're talking about the man who looks like Kojak, aren't you?"

Julianna nodded. "Yes. Armando trusted him and I'm confident that the house and everything in it will be taken care of under his watch." She pushed away her bowl of pudding and glanced at her watch. "As a matter of fact, he wanted to go over some of our accounts. If you'll excuse me," she said with a small smile as she stood up. She started to walk out but turned around suddenly and stared at Olivia. "I enjoyed our talk tonight." Olivia's polite nod was the last thing she saw before she turned and left the dining room.

The soft light of the dining room was bright compared to the darkness of the hallway. From the thick shade of the corner, a strong pair of arms grabbed at Julianna as she walked down the hall and pulled her into library. The Suit closed the door behind them before he turned around and frowned. "You need to be more careful. If you go overboard, you'll make your daughter suspicious."

"_In-law_. Daughter-in-law," Julianna interjected dryly. "She handled Armando's death far better than I anticipated."

"So? She passed that test and now you want to make her feel bad by telling her all that crap about her lover?" He scoffed and sat down on the sofa. "So what? What for?"

She sat down next to him on the sofa, her hand falling to his thigh. As she massaged his flesh through his pants, she leaned close to him and whispered in his ear, "I do it because I can. And because depression is a more powerful tool to work with than grief."

His head fell back and he hissed, "I hate to tell you this, but no amount of depression is going to get your son a sympathy fuck."

Her hand drifted from his thigh to his crotch, a teasing squeeze that coaxed a shuddering sigh from deep in his throat. "Of course not," she murmured as she pulled her hand away long enough to pull down the zipper on his trousers. She climbed into his lap and braced her hands on his shoulders. "Depression alone isn't enough, but it's a start." Her mouth teased his, hovering above his mouth before jerking away. "Her mental state is just the tip of the iceberg." His mouth finally caught hers and she surrendered briefly before pulling back. "We need to contact Mr. Douglas. I have a little job for him."


	41. Thunder

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 41: "Thunder"

He locked hands with her, their fingers braiding together like the thick fibers of rope. Her hand was nothing like rope though. The flesh of her palm was soft and warm, with a strange coolness to her fingers that chilled his to the bone. He hugged her closer, the faint trace of her breath stirring the hair on his chest. Her head rested over his heart and her hair fanned out across his shoulder.

As it so often did, his hand slowly found its way to her hair. That dark waterfall of hair that caressed the curve of her shoulders before falling to the middle of her back. He rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers as her leg shifted in between his. She shivered and he pulled his hand away from her hair, pulling the mess of sheets closer around her body.

"I think this is the quietest I've ever seen you," he murmured as he rubbed her arm.

Olivia chuckled softly and placed a soft kiss on his chest. "I was never one to talk during the throes of passion," she explained quietly as she looked up at him. "I always felt it-"

"Ruined the mood," they said together. She smiled and lowered her head back to his chest as he sighed tiredly.

"There's no way this mood could've been ruined," Gregory pointed out tiredly. They hadn't even made it to the bed this time. She had attacked him the moment she stepped into the suite, a trail of clothes leading from the door to the bedroom. Desperation echoed in the way she clawed his shirt off and pulled him down to the floor with her. "No way at all."

She pressed her body closer to his, snuggling under the warm sheets. Rain fell from the sky, pelting the glass pane of the window. "Is that a complaint?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

He shrugged down to her level, gazing in her eyes. "I didn't hear one," he insisted softly as his lips nibbled at hers. She chuckled against his mouth as her arm snuck up around his waist, inviting him closer. "But I'm serious," he mumbled as her fingers skimmed the top of his rear, "you're so quiet today." He watched silently as she pulled away and sat up, leaning against the foot of the bed. She sighed deeply and crossed her arms tightly against her chest. Her head fell back to the bed behind her as Gregory sat up.

"I think too much," she confessed softly as she stared up at the blank ceiling. A bolt of lightening lit up the room, chasing away the impending shadows for the briefest of moments. Thunder rumbled loudly, a sharp jolt that caused the windows to vibrate.

"Is that a bad thing?"

Olivia's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug as she turned to him. "I think so. I never used to hate my thoughts before." She turned into his touch as he reached out to caress her cheek. Her eyes closed as the back of his fingers brushed her flesh and she reached up to his hand. Slowly, her fingers closed around his and their joined hands fell away from her face. "I think I'm losing my mind," she whispered as she opened her eyes.

He shook his head and coaxed her closer. "Why would you say something like that?" Her back was warm as he pressed his palm against it, a gift from the shelter of the floor-strewn sheets.

Her latest sigh was one of defeat as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Because it's true." She raised her head and locked eyes with his for a quick moment.

It was in that quick moment that Gregory saw everything. One of those moments that feels like it last an eternity, but in reality last for less than a second. A brief shining moment in a sea of darkness, where clarity rides in on the crest of the waves. Her eyes flashed, the glimmer of a smile that always appeared when she looked at him held for a moment before sadness clouded the blue.

She pulled away from him, drawing her knees tight to her chest and locking her arms around them. Any trace of emotion, moreover any trace of life, fled from her eyes. Dead eyes seemed to stare through him, rather than at him, as she sighed again. "I've made such a mess of my life…and yours," she said, her voice flat.

"I suppose that depends on your definition of 'mess', Liv."

Her head shook, her hair parting and falling down around her shoulders. The curve of her spine was evident now that she was hunched over her knees. A raised string of pearls that trailed down her back. He wondered briefly why he hadn't noticed the weight loss before. It wasn't a great number, a few pounds by his best estimate. But for someone already so slender, it was a cause to worry.

She looked at him, really looked at him, and narrowed her eyes. "Please don't be coy." Her eyes closed again as her back shuddered. It was easier to have this conversation if she didn't have to look into his eyes. If she didn't see him, there was a better chance that she wouldn't lose her nerve. "I've made you put your life on hold. That's nothing to joke about."

The sheets flew back suddenly, the warmth escaping as Gregory stood up. "Who's joking?" he sighed. He reached for his boxers, discarded hastily on the floor by the door, and slipped them back on. He ran his hands through his hair tiredly as he turned back to Olivia. She hadn't moved at all. "The only one," he called over his shoulder as he walked into the suite's sitting room, "here putting their life on hold is you."

As he dropped small ice cubes into two glasses, he glanced over his shoulder and saw her flinch. He turned around clutching the glasses and the decanter of scotch nestled snugly in the crook of his arm.

"I don't have a life," she muttered as she took the offered glass from him. The liquor burned its way down her throat and she winced at the sensation.

He sat down in the armchair across from her, the decanter in one hand and his glass of scotch in the other. She thought he looked like a king on his throne, his legs sprawled casually in front of him. His confidence in himself and the world he constructed for himself was the first thing that attracted her to him. She doubted he knew that though. Perhaps she'd tell him one day.

"We're each the masters of our own lives, Liv…or lack thereof," he stated quietly as he took a large sip out of his glass.

"I suppose that's so," she said as took another sip. Her face wrinkled and she took a deep breath. "Gregory, we need to talk."

He reached down for the decanter, wrapping his fingers around its slender neck. "That sounds ominous," he remarked as more scotch rushed into his empty glass.

Olivia shrugged and glanced across at him. His face and bare chest were cloaked in the shadow of darkness. A bolt of lightening crackled through the dark sky. It illuminated the suite, bright light flickering across the parts of his body shrouded in night. She didn't need the bit of light to know that his eyes were on her. She could feel them, a tingling sensation that crawled across her flesh and made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention.

"I think about you all the time," she began softly. The cloud of sadness hanging over her face broke and she smiled bashfully. "So much so that I even wonder what kind of toothpaste you use." Her smile faded as quickly as it appeared and she bit her lip anxiously. "I also wonder how you get through the time in between our visits." She lowered her eyes and said, "I know you must be lonely." She picked up her glass and swallowed a large gulp, finishing the drink. "I don't want you to be lonely."

Thunder rumbled outside, the palm frond blowing horizontal in the storm wind blowing off the ocean. He flicked his wrist, the clinking of the ice cubes against the side of the glass filling the silence. "Well," he asked after a moment, "what do you propose we do about that?"

The sharpness of his voice surprised her and she lowered her eyes again. She twisted her wedding ring, her eyes locking on the small diamonds pressed into the band of gold. "I don't want you to be lonely." She clenched her teeth down hard on her lip, her eyes never leaving her ring as she said, "I would understand if you saw other women."

"Oh hell," he muttered as he threw his head back, finishing the contents of his glass. He again reached for the decanter, the golden liquor splashing into the basin of the glass. "You're right," he said as he gulped from the glass, "you must be losing your mind because what you are talking about is insane."

Olivia frowned. "I need you to listen to me."

"No. Not if you're going to talk like this."

"Damnit Gregory," she sighed as she rubbed her eyes tiredly. She glanced up at him as he jumped up from the armchair and stood in front of the window, his back turned to her. "I can't ask for fidelity from you," she explained." She twisted her engagement ring and chortled shortly. "As sad as it is, I have AJ."

Absurd laughter boiled low in Gregory's throat as he turned back to her. He leaned against the ledge in front of the window, his shoulders shaking in unbridled bitter chuckles. As one of her eyebrows arched in defiance of his laughter, he managed to say, "I never would've guessed that you had a job on the sly as a madam." He held up his hand to ward off her protest and snapped, "Don't argue! You're talking about getting me women! Were there any particular ones you had in mind?"

"You're overreacting," she sighed.

"I disagree. I think that my reaction is appropriate." He sighed and took another gulp of scotch. "I can't believe we are even having this conversation."

"It had to happen sooner or later." Her head snapped up as the sound of his glass shattering on the window frame sliced through the quiet.

"We don't," he insisted through clenched teeth, "have to talk about this at all. All of our problems would be solved if you left AJ. If you just packed up and left." He gestured wildly at her and she was relieved to see that his hand was uninjured. "But you won't do that, will you? I don't know how many times I need to tell you this," he spat out, "but we are not your parents. If we were together, we would be happy. This childhood fear of yours is ruining your life. And all because you're afraid."

As he leaned back against the ledge, his arms crossed against his chest, Olivia scrambled up from the floor and stalked out of the bedroom. _Damnit_. "Liv," he called out as he followed her.

The sheet was tucked around her body and she nearly tripped over it as she bent down to the floor to pick up her discarded clothes. Angry tears stung her eyes as she untied the sheet and pulled her slip on, stepping into her heels. She adjusted the straps on her shoulders and looked up to see him standing in the doorway.

"Are you leaving?" he asked.

"I don't want to," she snapped as he leaned against the doorjamb.

Gregory shook his head. "I don't want you to either." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and said, "This time, these few hours…It's the only thing I can think of when I'm away from you."

Her hand perched itself on her hip. "I know what that's like. That's why-"

"Wait. Let me say this." He waited for her to nod in compliance before continuing, "You're the only thing I can think about. You're the only woman I can think about when I'm in New York." He broke off abruptly as a rock of emotion settled in his throat. "_You_ are the only woman that I can see myself marrying, the _only_ woman I can see myself sharing a bed with for the rest of my life."

Four steps into the sitting room and he was in front of her. He grasped her shoulders and said softly, "You are the only woman I can see myself having children with and I'll be honest, I'm not exactly wild about them." She smiled tearfully, a small smile that broke up her quiet sobbing as a tear rolled down her cheek. He brushed it away as he clarified, "But for _our_ children, I'd change my opinion."

He squeezed her shoulders gently as he sighed. "I see my older brother and his wife struggling with a bad marriage and I know I don't want that for myself. That's why," he explained softly, "if I can't marry you, I'll never marry anyone."

As Olivia's heart froze, she sucked in a gasp and shook her head furiously. "Darling," she sobbed as her eyes filled with tears that spilled down her face, "don't say that."

"But it's true. That's why your plan is pointless. I only want you." His hands slid down her arms until their hands met. "I've only ever wanted you."

"Oh, Gregory," she whispered sadly as he pulled her to him gently. Her face hid in his neck as tears continued to fall down her face, his arms wrapping around her

He turned his face into her hair, taking in the scent of almonds. "What were you thinking?"

She sniffled and looked up at him, tears glistening on her cheeks and the tip of her nose a shade of pale red. "I was only thinking of you."

"Liv, I am so tired of you thinking about everyone else." He bit back the bubble of anger that threatened to burst, breathing deeply. "What about you? What do you want?"

"But I can't do that!" she cried as she pulled away, breaking their embrace. "I don't want to hurt anyone!"

"You're hurting yourself!" He gripped her shoulders again, grabbing her with such strength that her neck snapped forward. "You need to take whatever it is that's going to make you happy! What do you want!"

"You! I want you!" She wrenched herself free from his grasp and brought her hands to her face, sobbing into them. Silence stretched between them, growing more difficult to bridge with each passing second.

"But," he muttered, "you still won't leave, will you?"

Her hands fell slowly from her face, her blue eyes bloodshot from all of the tears she shed. She shook her head slowly and began, "I-"

"I know," he interrupted as he sighed heavily. "I know." He rubbed his hand roughly across his mouth. "You aren't staying for AJ," he stated bluntly. She glanced up in surprise as he continued, "You're staying because you're too afraid to trust me."

"No! God, Gregory- No! I do tru-"

"You don't. If you did, then we would be together. Your fear is your weakness and that's what guides every decision you make." He paused for a brief moment before adding, "And that's killing you."

Her eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in the blue. "I'm fine," she hissed.

"Oh really?" Gregory scoffed as he cocked his head. "I don't think so. When was the last time you were happy with the way your life turned out? Oh," he exclaimed in mock realization, "that's right! You don't have a life!"

She glared harshly at him as she snapped, "I don't need this." She turned around, stepping into the skirt she pulled off the arm of the sofa. "I didn't come here to have you patronize me." The skirt buttoned, she pulled a deep v-neck sweater over her head. She pulled her hair out from underneath the sweater and turned back to him. "I have to go back to my office."

Gregory watched as she draped her raincoat over her arm and grabbed the handle of her bag. "You can try all you want, Liv, but you won't find solace in your work." He sighed sadly and said, "I should know."

She stared at him for a long moment, watching as he rested his elbows on the back of the armchair. "Have a safe flight home tomorrow morning," she wished tersely as she turned for the door, closing it firmly behind her. She bit the corner of her lip as her face crumpled, a tiny sob escaping.

Leaning back against the door, she squeezed her eyes shut but failed to stop another tear from escaping. She swat it away as she rested her hand over her heart. _Why was he always right?_ With a soft moan, she opened her eyes and hung her head. _Why?_ She pushed herself away from the door, fighting the temptation to look back as she trudged down the hallway.

* * *

Julianna sat with her legs crossed, watching as the foaming waves broke on the shore. Dark clouds ushered in a torrent of rain, fat drops that plastered the patio. She leaned back comfortably in her chair and closed her eyes.

"The heavens must be weeping," she whispered. Her mother's favorite saying for whenever the skies opened. Wilma Morton, a woman whose dreams of grandeur were always stunted by reality. A woman who left her family's farm in the Midwest and moved to Los Angeles, visions of success in Hollywood dancing in her head.

But fame in the exclusive world of silent cinema escaped the fame hungry girl, who went so far as to adopt "Willa Norton" as her stage name. Liver failure, the family doctor diagnosed, brought on by excessive drinking.

Julianna snorted as she opened her eyes. _It hadn't been a great shock when Mother finally died_, she thought. _What else was expected? A Bloody Mary was the only thing she ever had for breakfast._

"She was weak," she muttered aloud as lightening flashed over the horizon, silver light falling on the raging black sea. "She couldn't make it on her own. Not like me."

_Yes_, she thought. _Weak. What else was she? She was a woman who married a small time publicity agent, a man who never managed to light his wife's Hollywood star past a sporadic flicker. A woman who transferred her dreams of being rich and famous to her children. A woman who taught her teenaged daughters that husbands were just another avenue to their own success. _

She smirked and raised her glass. "To Mother's weaknesses. They showed me what life was like in the gutter…and allowed me to aspire to never end up there." As she brought the glass to her lips, the door behind her creaked open. She wrenched around and arched her eyebrows in question. "Well?"

The Suit sat down on the chair across from her and flashed her a smirk of his own. He patted the lapel of his suit jacket triumphantly and said, "Mr. Douglas was anxious to get the merchandise off of his hands."

Julianna smiled and drummed her fingers on her knee. "Excellent."

He lounged comfortably in the armchair, stretching his legs out in front of him. "His curiosity was piqued when I told him what it was that I wanted. But I assured him that it was nothing he wanted to be party to."

"Forced relations between two people is such a nasty thing to be associated with," she murmured.

"Not that that is stopping you."

"Del Douglas is a weakling, something that I am not," she snapped. "But enough about him. I've dismissed the help for tonight and dropped enough subtle hints so that AJ is now convinced he and Olivia need a night alone. I've graciously volunteered to spend the evening at the spa and take a room at the resort."

The Suit frowned, giving Julianna pause. "I would think that you'd want to stay close in the event something went wrong."

She shook her head. "What we are giving Olivia isn't going to knock her out. AJ would never sleep with her if she was completely unconscious. It'll just diminish her reservations."

"Not to mention what it'll do to her perception of reality."

"That's no concern of mine. My concern is AJ and I refuse to see him humiliated if that slut leaves him for her lover." She eyed The Suit from the corner of her vision and asked, "Do you find her attractive?" His slight nod was all the response she needed. "Good. Then you'll have no problem 'filling in' later on if AJ fails to impregnate Olivia tonight."

She stood slowly, her glass tight in her hand as she added, "I'll see her endure the worst fires of Hell rather than find a moment's happiness." Chuckling to herself as she sipped at her drink, she asked, "Did you know that Gregory left this morning? I wonder if this was the last time that he'll ever see Olivia again?"

"You can only hope," The Suit mumbled as he stood. He patted his pocket and looked pointedly at Julianna. "I'll go leave our present in Olivia's tea."

She nodded distractedly as a gust of wind blew across the patio, rain slamming against the windows. "Did you check the forecast for tonight?"

"Rain. Nothing but rain."

"The heavens must be weeping."


	42. At the Corner of Haight & Ashbury

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 42: "At the Corner of Haight and Ashbury"

AJ plucked the handle of his espresso cup with his thumb and index finger, blowing lightly on the surface. With this week's rain came a rare cold front, sweeping down from the Pacific Northwest. Ice rain pounded the coast as residents drew their curtains closed against the unseasonable temperatures.

The fire in the hearth crackled as he burrowed his feet further into the warmth of his slippers. The rich espresso soothed his chest, chasing away the block of ice that settled there. He nestled back in his chair and quietly eyed the person sitting to his right, her profile silhouetted against the red-orange flames of the fire.

Olivia's silence and despondent demeanor hadn't changed in the days since he'd been home. Her smile forced, her kisses perfunctory. _Nothing more than a woman's malaise_, his mother promised him when he asked her about it.

Perhaps his Angel was just lonely. He cocked his head in thought as he watched her sip her tea. He had been away too long, dashing back and forth across Europe. But hadn't she sounded all right when he called? Laughed softly and assured him that she was just fine and that she didn't want to join him in Paris? Perhaps he should have insisted that she meet him anyway. He shook his head regretfully as he set his cup aside and touched the top of her hand.

"Why don't we go upstairs?" he asked. "Turn in early?"

Olivia turned slowly to him, her eyes meeting his for only a brief moment. "I'm not tired," she insisted softly as she brought her teacup to her lips.

"Neither am I." Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips as he skimmed over it, up and underneath the thin silk sleeve of her robe. Warm and comforting. He had been a fool to stay away from her for so long.

She pulled her arm back and said gently, "AJ, I-"

He held his index finger to her lips and hushed her. "Don't speak," he murmured. "Our bodies will do that for us." He leaned in, cupping the back of her head and drawing her close. A protest died in her throat as they met, a soft meshing of their lips.

"AJ," she gasped as she pulled back, pushing him away. "Stop."

He frowned and sat back in confusion. "I'd prefer that you said 'don't stop'. What's the matter?"

She shook her head slightly as she finished the last of her tea. Her eyes darted from the empty cup, to her hands, to the fire. Anywhere but him.

"There has to be something," he said flatly. "This is the first time since Father died that I've been home for more than two days. We haven't," he lowered his voice as he glanced around anxiously, "been together since then. Angel, I've _missed_ you!"

Her eyes tore up to his and her hands fluttered in her lap. "I've just been-"

"Lonely," he interrupted. He stroked her face with the backside of his fingers. "That's my fault," he explained softly. "I should've taken you with me this last time. You could've gone shopping and we would've been together." She glanced aside, causing him to chuckle. "Oh Angel," he teased affectionately as he rubbed her hand.

From his office down the hall came the distant ringing of the telephone. He sighed deeply and looked over at her. "I can let it go," he offered.

Olivia shook her head. "Oh no," she said graciously, "you should take it. What if it's important?"

"You're right." He stood, tightening the belt of his robe. He smiled down at her and combed the hair off his forehead with his fingers. "I'll try to keep it short." She nodded and smiled back at him. A small smile, but it was a start. He squeezed her shoulder and suggested, "Why don't you wait for me upstairs?"

She shrugged and set her empty teacup on the coffee table. "We'll see."

AJ choked back a sigh. Maybe it would take longer than one night of intimacy to rouse Olivia from whatever this was. He shook his head and stopped in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. She was leaning back on the sofa, her head propped on her crooked arm. _As quiet as she'd ever been_, he thought with a sigh as he turned away.

As the shuffling of his slippered footsteps receded down the hall, Olivia turned around. "Finally," she whispered with the barest of sighs.

AJ had been ever present since his return, hovering over her as a fly would to a candle. Her only reprieve was yesterday afternoon when she saw Gregory. Gregory. Her heart twisted as she thought of him…and her own stupidity. It would've been so easy if it were true, if she was only staying because of AJ. But it could never be true. Her heart just wouldn't allow it. It had belonged to Gregory for months now. She loved him. She loved him and he was right…about everything. And she _hated_ that.

Her eyes were heavy as she curled up in the corner of the sofa, but she wasn't tired. She had been honest about that. It was about the only thing she had been honest about lately. And hadn't Gregory called her on it? She could _never_ stay for just AJ.

But she could stay because she was afraid. Afraid of ruining her life and Gregory's, more so than she already had. He would never understand what that sort of fear was like. The way it lurked in your heart and soul, butterflies springing up in your stomach when you thought of all the ways that you could ruin things. Marriage to AJ didn't bring on that fear because she had never given of herself. There were no expectations.

With Gregory though, everything was on the line. Herself, her love for him, her very sanity…her heart. Everything that could make them great could be their downfall just as quickly. That sharp drop and slippery slope haunted her constantly. He could never understand what that was like.

She sat up as her legs started to tingle, a moment of warmth followed by a numbing dead sensation. With a grimace, she flexed her legs and stood up, but her knees buckled under the weight. She collapsed back onto the sofa as she gasped in surprise. She hadn't even had them tucked under her for that long, had she? Her fingers dug into her calves, urging the blood flow back to her aching limbs.

She glanced around the living room. Winter's sun had set hours ago, falling away behind the horizon. The fire was dying in the stone hearth, the flames dulling to a pale orange glow. A quiet end to a day that was like all the others that came before it and all the ones that would come after.

She wiggled her toes, sighing in relief that she could feel the cold wood floor beneath them. Pushing herself up, she stood slowly and grasped the arm of the sofa as feeling flooded back into her legs. She stood still for a moment, the stinging pain of pins and needles attacking her calves and up to her thighs. Shadows danced and spun around the corners of her line of vision. She blinked and turned around slowly.

Perhaps AJ was right. Perhaps turning in early _was_ a good idea.

* * *

The study hadn't been the same since its original occupant vacated it. Armando's presence still lingered in the room, like the last traces of summer as autumn swept across the land. It was somewhat disturbing, AJ realized the first time the spent time there. If he closed his eyes long enough and sat back quietly, he could almost swear that his father was in the room with him. At times like this though, when the stress was so great and he wanted to tear his hair out by the roots, that his father's lingering presence was a comfort. 

AJ swiveled around in the leather chair, the phone pressed to his ear, and a stack of projected earnings spread across his desk. Profits were down again after a brief rise around the start of the New Year. He sighed and glanced down at the paperwork as the voice from the receiver continued to blather.

"No, no," he finally cut in as he pushed the papers away and tiredly rubbed his eyes. "That would go against every principle that _Deschanel Shipping _and my father stand for. No, I can't, and won't, endorse that measure. We'll need to find another way."

He sank lower in the armchair as his eyes fell on the crystal clock sitting in the corner. Over an hour since he left Olivia. He cleared his throat, preparing to interrupt and end his call when he saw how little earnings they would have for this quarter. He frowned and resigned himself to the fact that his Angel would have to wait. She wouldn't mind. She never did. She was _so_ understanding.

"Yes, I'm still here," he assured the person on the other end as he sat at attention.

* * *

The bedroom was quiet, Olivia noticed. Too quiet. She tossed her magazine aside and glanced around. The little light on the night table glowed softly, the only illuminated fixture in the room. Sleep didn't find her when she came up earlier. Like that fountain of water in the desert, sleep seemed unattainable. The sheets bunched and twisted around her legs as she tossed and turned. She gave up after what seemed like hours, but in reality couldn't have been longer than thirty minutes. 

Leaning back against the headboard, she drew her knees up to the chest and rested her chin on them. The night was dark with thundercloud coverage hid the silver glow from the moon. She sighed tiredly and shivered as a cold spell washed over her, goose bumps rising from her flesh. Her head turned, resting flush against her knees as she stared blankly at the opposite wall. Heavy brocade curtains were cinched at the sides, hanging over the sheer accents that hugged the patio door.

She squinted and stared closer at the thick curtains, flecks of burgundy and forest green swimming amongst the textured bronze thread. Her brow furrowed as she glared at the material. _Wha- Are they?_

She eased off the bed, her toes curling into the navy blue carpet. "No," she whispered as she reached tentatively for the curtain. _They are! _Her eyes blinked furiously as her fingers closed around the curtain. _It was- they were- somehow… _"It's moving," she said aloud as her eyes took in the pattern. They were twisting and moving around the material. _But they can't!_

Her hand broke out in spasms as her fist clenched tighter around the curtain. She let it go immediately as if she mistakenly touched a hot plate. And just as quickly, her eyes flew down to her hand. She turned her palm up and recoiled as dozens of black ants squirmed in her hand, crawling across her flesh. She gasped and flung her hand away, shaking off the interlopers. It was a wicked tickle as she backed away from the windows, the insects disappearing into dust as they fell off her.

Breathing heavily, she collapsed onto the bed and pulled her feet underneath her. She snapped on the light next to AJ's side of the bed and peered down at the floor. _Were they still there? _She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. Repulsion rolled off her in waves as she kneeled in the middle of the bed. "Bloody hell," she murmured.

Her eyes darted around the room as her breathing struggled for normalcy. She could still feel the ants in her hand, scurrying to and fro in her palm. Too wired was she to sleep now.

She inched cautiously back to the edge of the bed. The carpet was soft enough that she couldn't see where the ants went to or even where they came from. Warmth bubbled up from her deep in her belly as she hung off the bed, her face skimming the carpet and her legs flat on the mattress. She became weightless as her eyes stared at the carpet and she couldn't help but giggle uncontrollably.

The fibers of the carpet, the whole carpet for that matter, began to ripple up. Her giggle turned into a full laugh as the navy blue carpeting bunched and rolled. Her chest, arms, and legs began to tingle as her muscles loosened and she rolled clumsily onto the floor. Any disgust she felt from a moment ago, though it seemed like longer, vanished seamlessly in a puff of smoke. Happiness and a sense of lazy peace oozed out of every pore as her body continued to shake with laughter. How long had it been since she felt this good? Since she felt this happy?

She stretched her arms contentedly above her, marveling at how long it had taken them to fall back to her sides. Laziness, it seemed, was the mood du jour. The muscles of her legs and in her back, normally tense with anxiety, were limp and relaxed. How good it felt just to- just to feel good.

It didn't matter that her life was in shambles. It didn't matter that she walked out on Gregory and she was left with AJ the meek. "AJ the weak," she howled with laughter, amused at her own rhyme. Bette would appreciate it.

She wiped tears of laughter off her cheeks and sighed. Yes, everything would be all right. How could things be wrong? She was beyond happy, she was- Absurd laughter burst out of her mouth when she realized she couldn't think of any words. There were no words to describe the sensations and thoughts running through her head. It was all so obvious now. She understood everything. It was all so clear. As clear as the way the ceiling was slowly caving in on her.

In quiet awe, she raised her hand slowly. _God, it was so perfect_. The curve of the ceiling as it tilted down to her was soft, soft as a pillow as her fingertips grazed it. And she was the only one here to see it. Her fingers pressed into the ceiling, disappearing behind the billowy white mist the plaster became. The sparkle from her rings was brilliant, a glaring white light that shimmered across her face.

The ceiling continued to sink lower until it was practically touching her nose, bringing along the promise of delight. She inhaled sharply, anticipating the warm bubbly pressure she'd surely feel when the ceiling began to pull back. As she watched silently, the ceiling started to return to its normal home. A sigh of disappointment fell from her lips. The ceiling dipped back to her again and continued to alternately rise and fall as she breathed in and out. She giggled in hysterical delight, the laughter never dying as she clenched the duvet and pulled herself up from the floor.

Standing slowly, she couldn't even tell that her legs were beneath her. She was walking on air, cool air that kissed the soles of her feet. She closed her eyes piously and decided that she felt Christ-like, until she recalled that he walked on water, not air. She choked back a giggle as she opened her eyes. Twelve years of Catholic schooling…Mother Superior would be disappointed with her.

Everything around her pulsed with energy. And life! The colors were alive, swirling with intensity. The navy blue of the duvet never seemed richer and more powerful. She turned around slowly in a small circle, marveling at the intensity of…everything! The clarity of the shapes, every corner seamless and sharp. But the color! She couldn't believe the color! Bright yellow from the Cubist painting above the bed, a dash of vibrant purple. The pink of her nightgown and robe swelled, deepening in color from pale to practically fuchsia.

She smiled broadly as she held out her arms and danced in a circle. Yes, she was alive and without a care in the world. How long had it been since she came up here? It didn't matter. Time froze and ceased to be of importance. As if to prove this, she glanced at the antique clock and saw the hands spinning wildly out of control. Minutes stretched into hours and hours became days as she continued to dance around the room, reveling in the happiness that rushed through her veins.

God, where was Gregory when she needed him? The sex they could be having now would be incredible. Twinges of heat shot between her legs as she thought of him and all of the things that they could be doing to each other. Her tongue ran across her lips in anticipation as she stumbled over to the phone. The carpet was slippery like ice and she fell to her knees as her hand latched onto the phone. She'd need to get that fixed before Gregory came over.

But the keypad was a problem. She stared at the buttons. _How do they work? _They were popping up and down on their own as she stared dumbly. "This may take awhile," she realized as she shook the handset. She tossed the phone aside in defeat after awhile and pushed herself to her knees. She drummed her fingers on the mattress, noting that they moved faster and faster until they became a whirl of flesh and fingernail.

Mastering the phone may have eluded her, but she snapped her fingers in realization. _The car! Yes_, she thought as she pulled a thick cardigan on over silk night attire, _I'll drive over to the resort and see him!_ The wool of the sweater itched her neck, scratching at her flesh like the thorns of a rosebush. Warm liquid dripped down, splattering on her chest and staining her nightgown. She ran her fingers over the skin of her neck, recoiling as she felt something warm and sticky. Her face wrinkled to a grimace as she looked down at her fingers.

Evil.

She froze as near black stains of blood ran across the flesh of her digits, oozing down to her palm and her wrist. It was blacker than black, as she stared in horror into the bottomless black abyss of nothingness. It was as if Death was crawling up from Hell, bleeding past her hand to the world surrounding her. The intense color of earlier faded away, replaced by darkness.

She spun quickly, panic rising in her throat. _The door! _But it was gone, far away across the other side of the room. She fled to it, her chest pounding in unbridled fear, but it was futile. The more she ran, the farther away it got, stretching far back until it was no more that a speck of dust in the distance.

Tears of a different sort rolled down her cheeks now as she collapsed down to the floor. Hot tears of fear that burned her flesh, melted clumps of skin falling into her hand. The surrounding black swallowed her shriek as she ripped the sheets from the mattress, patting dry the burns on her face. She sobbed to herself as she took in the acrid scent of charred flesh. Rasping breath irritated her chest as she leaned back against the foot of the bed, trying hopelessly to quell the growing hysteria. Attempts to do so were halted by the mocking laughter that boomed from the black and white world she now inhabited. Black overpowered the white, evil winning out over good. Devoid of color and anything remotely resembling optimism, Olivia lay on the floor and drew her legs up to her chest.

"Alone, alone," the shadows hissed at her, inching closer to her. She nodded sadly as another tear rolled down her face. She was alone and she'd probably die alone too. Die old and alone because she pushed everyone she loved away. She loved Gregory, more than anything. Even life.

A black shadow slithered over her foot, creeping up her ankle and to her calf. Pretty soon it would cover her completely, cutting her off from Gregory and everyone she loved. And she'd be alone for eternity until her miserable excuse for a life ended. Just as she always feared.

_What was that! _She wrenched around, struggling to breathe over chest raking sobs as she groped blindly in the dark. It was there again, slithering across her back and shoulder blades. She sat up and whipped her head around quickly, seeking what was attacking her from behind. It jumped in front of her, lunging and brushing across her face. She spat as she tasted the bitterness and grime of slimy scales on her lips.

"Ugh," she shrieked as her nails raked across her face, flinging the long black serpents off her. She jumped to her feet and ran from the bed, feeling her way along the wall until she felt the textured wood of the doorjamb. She fell into the bathroom, slamming the door closed. Waves of air crackled visibly in front of her, rippling loudly. _God, it followed me in!_

She backed away from the door, banging her hip into the bathroom counter. It was in the air. She could feel it watching her and sliding across her skin, rustling against her hair. It was coming for her. _God, where is Gregory! I need him!_

Peals of snickering hit her in response to her silent plea. "Stop it!" she cried. "Please! Stop it!"

Instead, the laughing only increased. Horrible laughter, without a trace of kindness in it. Without any trace of life in it. The air around her grew drier, grainy atmosphere that surrounded her. Whispery fingers latched onto her neck, squeezing slightly as pressure closed in around her head. She held her breath, willing herself not to give in to oxygen. She had to keep it out of her body. Whatever it took.

"Try all you want," it whispered, coming at her from all sides. "You won't win because you're weak. And that's why he isn't here. You're weak. You're nothing. And you will DIE."

She shook her head furiously, her eyes burning as she broke out in a new round of tears. She was going to die. She wouldn't make it through this night alive. Was it still night? _Oh, God, the walls are closing in on me! _She ran for the door, slamming face first into the wall. _The door- where is the door!_

Her fingernails cracked as they scratched across the wall. _The door. The door. I've got to get out of here!_ Sobbing uncontrollably, her head pounding, her heart racing, she desperately felt along the wall. "It's not here," she sobbed. "It's not here." Her shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands. "There's no way- I can't…"

Tears snaked underneath her fingers as they trailed down from her eyes. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably as she wiped them away. Sadistic giggling rang in her ears, layers of noise that surrounded her from all sides.

"You're nothing," it hissed. "Give up and die."

She nodded in resignation as she hiccupped back a sob. "I-," she whispered hoarsely. She slid down the wall, her silk robe whistling against the fabric wallpaper. Her knees buckled as her body met the floor.

The knot of air tightened around her neck, squeezing harder with fingers of ice. She thrashed furiously, trying to free herself from its viselike grip. A force of power slammed into her chest, pushing her back. She landed flat on her back, her head bouncing slightly on the carpet of the bedroom.

She jumped up, glancing around the bedroom. The pace of her breathing increased as she looked back at the wall. She still couldn't see the door. _Then how?_

"Oh God, I'm losing my mind," she mumbled as she backed away, holding her hands against the pounding in her head. Cold panic pooled in her stomach, spreading to the rest of her body. "My heart!" She patted her chest repeatedly, trying to find some sign of life. "I can't hear it! It's not beating!" Her head spun and stars swam in her vision. "I need to get out of here."

She jerked to the left. _The balcony. _She lunged for the door, twisting and pulling at the knob until it flew open. Tripping over a lounge, the chair scraping harshly against the stone embedded in the ground, she fell down. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, barely registering the pain radiating from her knee.

A clap of thunder made her jump. She turned her face up to the sky, black storm clouds gathering above her. A drop of rain fell, plopping on her upturned forehead and splattering out to smaller beads of water. She pushed herself up as another crack of thunder rippled through the sky. Rain plastered her hair to her head, stabbing her like thousands of needles jabbing her body. She moved back, her eyes darting around the balcony as she looked for the voice. Her foot slipped on the slick stone and she looked down quickly. Rain pooled around her feet. She stepped away from the puddle quickly, only to step into another one.

And another one.

And another one.

It was still after her.

"Oh," she sighed fretfully as she eyed the ground beneath her. Lightening flashed in the distance, briefly illuminating _Reve de la Mer _and the beach next to it. Waves crashed harshly into the shore, the bolt of lightening catching the foamy crest. As thunder rumbled, a wave rose from the ocean. She followed it with her eyes, tilting her head back as far as it could go. Another sharp flash of lightening and a burst of thunder, a loud boom that shook the house.

Her head fell forward, her teeth chattering together. _I can't let it get me! _With her eyes never leaving the wall of water that was rushing towards her, she fingered the stone ledge of the patio. European Gothic in architecture, the wide railing was dotted with spheres of stone. Wide enough for her to stand on.

She gripped the railing and swung her leg over it. Looking down, she gasped in alarm. Her other foot was completely submerged in water. She grabbed hold of the decorative ornament rising from the stone and pulled her other leg up to the ledge. Pushing a wet lock of hair off her cheek, she stood slowly, gauging her balance. The ledge was wide enough that there were several inches to spare at both ends of her feet. She struggled to steady her breathing as she stood tall, her arms slightly away from her body for balance.

Glancing to either side, then straight out in front of her, she felt the panic start to bubble in her chest again. It wasn't high enough. She wasn't high enough. She wouldn't be able to live when the wave slammed into the house.

Hideous, high-pitched shrieking erupted from the ocean and she couldn't help but tremble. It was coming for her. She sobbed, feeling it pressing against her from all sides. There was no escape, no way out. Except…

Her eyes fell down, down to the stone patio on the ground level. It lay there firm and strong, a beacon of safety in all of this. The only thing that could help her. The _only_ thing. Like a pillow, it would catch her, enveloping her in the safety of the stone. She knew what she had to do. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, stealing herself for the drop.

* * *

AJ shuffled down the hallway, gasping back a yawn. He had stopped keeping track of the time after three hours passed and he was still on the phone. Rolling his shoulder to combat the aching muscles of his neck. Problems, problems. Nothing but problems. Work was nothing but problems. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will away the anticipated headache. Gripping the doorknob, he thought of his bed. Soft pillows, firm mattress, cool sheets. After the day he had, all he wanted to do was collapse into bed and sleep. Sleep it all away. His Angel would have to understand.

He pushed open the door and jerked to a stop. His bedroom, his sanctuary from the world, was a _mess_. The sheets were stripped bare from the bed, lying in a rumpled pile, the duvet peaking out from underneath. On the floor in front of the night table, the phone lay on its side. The handset was separate from the base, the dial tone droning on aimlessly.

Stepping further into the bedroom, he glanced around. Wind and rain blew in from the open balcony doors, the sheer curtains dancing on the light breeze. As he continued to stare around in confused wonderment, he looked further onto the balcony and saw Olivia. Standing on the ledge of the balcony.

Breaking out in a cold sweat, he walked to the door. Her back was to him, her robe and hair molded to her body because of the rain. Standing in the open doorway, he watched the rain pelt her body, lightening outlining her body.

_God, she's so small_, he thought as he licked his suddenly dry lips. He stepped further out onto the balcony, ignoring the pouring rain. Her feet kept shifting and sliding on the wet stone.

For as long as he would live, AJ would swear that what followed next happened in what felt like slow motion, but probably occurred in mere seconds. The beat of his heart slowed as the muscle leapt into his throat. Fear choked his voice as he parted his lips to call her name. He saw her spread her arms and he saw her foot leaving the ledge.

"Olivia! No!" he shouted as he dashed toward her. Her head started to turn as his hands clamped down on her hips and he yanked her to him. She fell back, jerking in surprise as they both fell back to the floor of the balcony.

"No! Oh my God! No!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "Let me go! It'll get me!"

Her elbow dug into his ribcage, the fall knocking the wind out of him. "What," he gasped, "are you talking about?"

She kicked at his legs, still struggling to get away. "It wants to kill me! Don't let it!"

He rolled out from under her and pinned her body beneath his. He was as drenched as she was and he peeled a piece of hair off her cheek. Her eyes were wild, frantically darting to different spots on the balcony. Her hands twitched anxiously against his chest as she tried to push him away.

He grabbed her moving hands to still them and he saw that two of her fingernails on her left hand had broken off, dried blood pooling on the exposed flesh. "What did you do to yourself? What happened Angel?" he asked as he scooped her sobbing body into his arms.

Her body shook against his as she continued to cry, sobs cutting into her voice as she pled, "Don't let it find me! Hide me! It's going to kill me!"

He stood slowly, holding her body close to his. She was a dead weight as he led her back to their dry bedroom. "I won't," he assured her as her arms locked around his neck. "I won't.


	43. After the Rain

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 43: "After the Rain"

Bette struggled to hold back a yawn and she shifted slightly on the bed. No use really, her muscles had drifted away to numbness hours ago. Her eyes were like sandpaper, scratchy and dry from staying open all night. Staying awake all night wasn't a new phenomenon, but never before had one of these benders been filled with so much anxiety. Starting with AJ's panicked phone call in the early hours of the morning, it had all gone downhill from there.

She looked down at the head resting in her lap. Her fingers gently combed through the long dark hair, frowning as Olivia continued to tremble. When she arrived, her friend had been manic, pacing frantically around the room in sodden pajamas, rambling about something trying to kill her. No amount of assurances could calm her, convince her that she was safe. Bette closed her eyes and leaned back against the headboard, recalling the way she fought with Olivia to calm down, as tears ran down her face and she tugged a clump of her dark hair out by the roots.

Her eyes opened slowly as she felt Olivia sit up. She was propping herself up with her arms, cautiously taking in her surroundings. "How you doing, Toots?" she asked softly.

Olivia stared at her for a long moment, her eyes puffy from prolonged crying until she managed to whisper, "I don't know." She pulled herself up into a sitting position with painstakingly slow movements. She sat back against the headboard but after several seconds, she slumped to the side and rested on Bette's shoulder. "My head hurts," she complained softly.

"I would imagine so," Bette said as she turned to look at her. She cupped Olivia's chin, tilting her head up as she gently probed the bump on her forehead. "Yup, a real goose egg," she concluded as she clucked her tongue and Olivia winced. "You, my friend, did _quite_ the number on yourself."

Olivia shrugged and leaned back against Bette's shoulder. "I guess."

"No, we _know_. We don't have to guess," she sighed. She wrapped her arm around Olivia's shoulders, rubbing steadily as she pulled them closer together. "What happened Olivia?"

"I don't know." Her voice, normally filled with accented pitches, ran flat as if even talking was too much of a chore. "I was happy…and then I wasn't." She ran her hand down the hand knit quilt that Bette wrapped around her, poking her finger through one of the spaces in the delicate design. "Maybe," she thought aloud after a moment, "I drank too much?"

Bette's head shook quickly, a hastily constructed bun holding back her red hair. "Booze wouldn't do this to you Livy." Her eyes fell down to her lap. Alcohol didn't make a person climb onto the ledge of their balcony and- "Do you remember what happened to you last night?"

Struggling with a yawn, Olivia nodded. "I remember _all_ of it. Everything." Her eyes fell shut as she struggled to explain the events of the previous night. "At first," she began softly, "it felt like I was on top of the world. Everything was perfect and it- it was all perfect." She chuckled lightly as she slid down, staring up at the ceiling as the pillow cradled her head. "Things were alive. I was alive," she added as she turned to gaze up at Bette.

"And later?" Bette prodded anxiously, as a dozen possibilities flew around her head.

Olivia latched onto her extended hand, comforted by the reassuring squeeze she felt. "It was horrible," she whispered tearfully. "Horrible. It- it sucked up all the good and…I thought I'd never be happy again." Her voice fell away as her eyes widened in fear. "Oh God," she sobbed as she started to cry, "I thought I was going to die!" Tears fell freely as she gulped back a sob and scrambled up, "I almost did die, didn't I?"

Bette hugged Olivia to her, her tears dampening the lightweight turtleneck she tugged on before racing over. "Shh," she whispered. "You're safe now. You're safe."

The sobbing came harder, gut wrenching cries that irritated her head and caused it to throb. "The- the bal-"

"AJ pulled you down." From the night table, she grabbed a tissue and passed it to Olivia. "Livy, it's ok," she promised her still crying friend. "You're safe now." She patted her cheek and repeated in a whisper, "You're safe."

"But," Olivia sputtered as she wiped her cheeks and nose dry, "I almos-"

"_Almost_," she interrupted. "Almost." She sighed and smoothed a wrinkle out of the quilt she wrapped around Olivia's shoulders. "Are you warm enough?"

Olivia looked up at her slowly and nodded, her eyes glazed over with exhaustion. "I kicked you," she whispered in horror. "Last night, I was wet and cold…and you were trying to pull my nightgown off so you could get me into dry clothes." Her hand fluttered to her mouth as she whispered, "I fell back onto the bed and I kicked you when you leaned over me." She watched as Bette shrugged indifferently and she reached for her hand, squeezing it as she said, "Oh Bette, I'm sorry."

"Oh no," Bette muttered as turned to Olivia, "don't start apologizing again. I went through that earlier when those were the only two words you muttered for about an hour!" As Olivia cracked a smile, she added, "In fact, you apologized so much that you've atoned for original sin."

Olivia's light laughter was a relief to her ears and she couldn't help but join in. Color was returning to her face, erasing the image of the Olivia she first encountered last night. One who had blue lips and was shivering uncontrollably. Her lips were pink again and her cheeks were blooming rosy.

"Seriously, Toots," she continued after a moment, "you weren't yourself last night. You scared the breezes out of AJ…and me." She paused and searched Olivia's face for answers as she asked, "Did you take anything?" She frowned as Olivia's gasp segued into shocked giggle. "Snort anything? Smoke anything?" she mumbled over the laughter.

"Oh God," Olivia said, laughter still clinging to her voice, "are you mad? I haven't smoked _anything_ since college…with _you_, as I recall."

"Ahhh, yes," Bette sighed nostalgically. "You, me, our new friend Mary Jane, _Tapestry_ in the background." Another sigh fell from her lips as she looked back at Olivia. "Where did all the good times go?"

"Down the drain when we both got married…to men we shouldn't have," Olivia answered dryly. She turned her head away, her breathing coming out in a shudder as she said softly, "I didn't take anything."

_Not willingly_, Bette thought to herself as she glanced at her watch. Just after eight. "You feeling well enough to take a drive Toots?"

"To where?"

Bette pushed herself off the bed, bending back to stretch the stiff muscles of her back. "What you're wearing is fine," she instructed with a wince, the bones cracking and popping as they came back to life.

Olivia looked down at her clothes. "Fine for what?" she asked as she eyed the thick sweater and jeans covering her body. "Where are we going?"

"My doctor," Bette answered. "Her office opens in an hour."

"Your doctor?" she asked as she folded her legs beneath her and stretched her arms high above her head. "Why not mine?"

_Because he's also your husband's doctor_. Bette shrugged innocently and untied her hair, combing it with her fingers before throwing it up in a twist. "Because she's closer," she covered. "Your doctor is half way to L.A. In fact," she glanced down at her watch again, "I'm going to try to get her answering service on the phone. See if we can get you in as her first appointment." She forced herself to smile calmly, willing herself to relax as she backed away. "I'm going to use a phone downstairs so you can get ready."

Her hand was on the doorknob, turning it to leave the room when Olivia called out, "Bette?" She turned around just in time to catch the hug. She wrapped her arms around Bette as she kissed her cheek and whispered, "Thank you."

She smiled and blinked back tears as she patted Olivia's cheek. "I know." She sighed deeply and pushed her gently back into the room. "Be ready to go." She gestured down at the ground and pointed out, "The barefoot look went out two seasons ago."

Olivia's cheeks blushed to a deep shade of red, but she nodded and she promised, "I'll be ready." She tossed a smile over her shoulders as she disappeared into the walk-in closet.

Bette closed the door softly behind her and broke out in a brisk walk down the hallway. The house was empty except for the three of them. His mother gone, none of the servants around. _No one for Livy to get help from_, she grumbled to herself as she jogged down the stairs. _No one to save her_.

"Slimy bastard," she muttered as she glared at a portrait of AJ and Olivia on their wedding day in the library. "He definitely gave her something."

* * *

Olivia stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, staring quietly at her reflection. A large bruise mapped across her forehead, black and blue tinged with a sickly yellow. Bette was right. There _was_ a large bump.

The dark bruise contrasted nicely though with the angry red scratches on her cheeks and chin. She glanced down at her fingernails, wincing at the lack of them. The nail was ripped away on two of her fingers, snapped off practically down to the bed.

"What a night," she sighed aloud as she left the bathroom, ignoring the two trails of blood that streaked across the wallpaper.

"You can say that again."

She jumped and spun around, following the voice. "AJ!" she gasped as her hand flew to her chest.

He pushed away from the wall, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Just me."

"God," she sighed as she plopped down on the foot of the unmade bed. She glanced up at him as she rolled her jeans up to her knees, pulling on a pair of boots. "Are you alright?"

He shrugged and leaned against the bureau. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"But you haven't." She smoothed down one pant leg and pulled up the other one.

"I know." He sighed tiredly and rubbed his cheeks fervently. "I was up all night in my office…thinking."

Olivia pulled the boot zipper up and tugged her jeans back in place. "About what?" she asked as she stood up and walked over to her vanity. He watched for a moment as she ran a brush through her hair, wincing as the bristles rubbed against her irritated scalp and fought with tangles.

"You. Us. Our life." He sucked in his breath and shoved his hands deeper in the pockets of his wrinkled robe. "I was blind." She put her brush down slowly and turned to him as he said, "I can't believe I didn't realize what was going on with you sooner."

"What are you talking about?" she asked softly and cautiously. "What's going on with me?"

He sighed patiently. "Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out?"

She turned away from him, her legs moving mechanically as she hugged her arms to her chest. "Figure it out?" she repeated, her mind racing as she tried to figure out where he was going with all of this. And more importantly, how much he knew.

He sat up and grabbed her shoulders, turning her around so he could look into her eyes. They were calm now, a significant change from the way they were last night. Rubbing her shoulders with his thumbs lightly, he said, "You. Figure _you_ out. And what you've been hiding."

"AJ," she chuckled nervously, "what is it you think I've been keeping from you?"

He narrowed his eyes as he tilted his head and smiled knowingly, like a little boy who knew one of his older sister's secrets. "I know," he sighed, "that you've been hiding how unhappy you are." His hands fell away from her shoulders and he rocked back on his heels as her hands flew to her neck, fidgeting anxiously. "I don't want you to try and deny it. After last night," he trailed off as he glanced furtively at the balcony doors, closed and locked tight, "there's no way that you could."

She bit the corner of her lip and whispered, "I wasn't going to."

AJ looked up in surprise. "Good," he said, nodding his head slightly, "because I want us to be honest." He took her gently by the hand and led her to the foot of the bed, sitting her down as he kneeled in front of her. "I want to say something and I'm going to ask you not to interrupt please." Her silence was her agreement and he sucked in his breath before he began. "I never thought it possible," he started softly, "that things could get so bad between us. Weren't we happy on our wedding day?"

Happy wasn't the word that Olivia would have used to describe her feelings on that day. Resigned terror would have been more apropos. Knowing that with each step she took down the long aisle to the altar and AJ, she was clearly making the biggest mistake of her life. Wondering if it would've been so terrible if she had yanked her arm away from her father's, turned on her heel, and fled.

"I thought we were," he continued as he rested his hands on her knees, squeezing slightly. "But last night, when I found you- I felt like I didn't even know you."

"Perhaps you don't," she muttered as she pressed her fingers lightly against the side of her head. Icing earlier had reduced the swelling a bit, but had done nothing to combat the growing headache. She reached behind her, pushing her beige trench coat aside and pulling a small pillbox out of her bag.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

She shrugged as she swallowed two aspirins dry and tossed the small box back into her leather bag. "We dated for barely a year before you proposed. Maybe you don't know me as well as you think. You just said you felt that way."

"_Felt_," he differentiated. "I said I 'felt' that way. But deep down, I know you Angel," he said confidently.

Olivia narrowed her eyes as she squirmed beneath his touch. "How do I take my tea?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" he scoffed after a moment's pause. "What does that matter?"

"It matters to me."

"Angel," he broke off as he laughed, a trace of condescending amusement running through it, "that really isn't important. The point is, you and I need to reconnect. Get our marriage back on track. We were so happy in the beginning and we can be again." Over her sigh of frustration, he said, "Now I've given this a lot of thought. And I've been on the phone all night to Europe working out the arrangements."

"Arrangements?" she asked softly as her eyebrows arched questioningly.

"We're moving," he inflected grandly as he ran his hands up her things and scooted closer to her. "To France."

"Moving. To France." Olivia shook her head and insisted, "No, we aren't moving."

"Angel-"

"Stop calling me 'Angel'! Damnit," she sighed in disgust as she glared across at him. "My name is Olivia."

He reeled back as if she struck him, his jaw dropping. _She's worse off than I suspected_, he thought as she crossed her arms in front of her. _This is all for the best_.

"We need this," he continued cautiously. "I need this. But most importantly, _you_ need this. I've purchased a large home for us in St. Tropez. It has a view of the sea. La mer. Wouldn't you like that An- Olivia?"

"No," she began as she shook her head. "AJ-"

"You can rest there," he interrupted loudly over her continued protests. "Recuperate from all of this…unpleasantness. Monte Carlo is just a short plane ride away. Paris too."

"Why aren't you listening to me!" she snapped. "I don't want to move to France. I _can't_ move to France. My life- everything is here. Bette. Not to mention my job. I can't just walk away from them. And you," she said as she jabbed him in the chest with her index finger, "have your father's company based here."

"Provisions have been made for that."

"AJ, what have you done?" she whispered.

"I've done what is in my rights as President and CEO," he argued testily. "I'm splitting the company in two. As it is now, it's already functioning as two separate entities," he said, despite Olivia's gasp of surprise. "I'm leaving the North American half to the Board of Trustees. I'll still serve as President and CEO, but I'm leaving the day-to-day operations to them. The operations here have been nothing but trouble. That way I'll be free to oversee the European front. Which, as you know," AJ said smugly, "is based in-"

"Paris," Olivia finished softly as her mind raced. Gregory. He'd have no reason to come to Paris. AJ was no longer dealing with him. Her stomach churned as chilling realization set in. She'd never see Gregory again. She swallowed her fear, pushing it back down her throat, as she shook her head and stated bluntly, "I'm not coming with you then."

"Yes, you are." His grip tightened around legs as he reiterated, "You are my wife. Your place is with me." He stood up, resting his hand on her shoulder as he looked down at her. "I've always admired your independent streak but this is getting ridiculous. I have made a decision and that's final."

Cold anger replaced her fear as she jumped to her feet, pushing him away. "Excuse me? You've made a decision and that's that? I don't think so. This is not the nineteenth century."

"You know _Olivia_, this 'women's lib' bit was cute, attractive even, when we were in college and dating, but you are my wife now and -"

"And what you say goes?" she interrupted with a bitter chuckle. "Oh AJ, this tough man act doesn't suit you. You've got nothing to back it up with." She wrenched away from him after his grip on her shoulder tightened. She was dancing dangerously close to the point of no return, but she didn't care anymore. They both were in unfamiliar territory and the gloves were off, as the uncharacteristic glint in his eyes attested.

"I can't have you running around Sunset Beach, trying to jump off every balcony that you come in contact with!"

She spun back to him, her hair flying and eyes blazing. "So that's what this is about! You're worried that I'm going to sully your reputation!" She tried to push him away roughly as his hand locked around her wrist, twisting it harshly as he held it at bay. "Did you ever think," she hissed as she fought to free her wrist, "that the reason I wanted to jump was you?" His jaw clenched and she went in for the kill. "That death was preferred rather than having to spend one more miserable day as your wife!"

In hindsight, she should have anticipated it. But it was so uncharacteristic for him to lose his composure and be anything but placid, that she didn't see the back of his hand coming at her until she felt his knuckles crack against the side of her face. She stumbled and her head flew to the side as the bitter, metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and a burst of stars exploded in her vision. A floodgate of emotion opened in her, releasing a torrent of anger and the primal need to defend herself. Fight or flight.

"Bastard," she growled as her free hand flew up, contacting harshly against the side of his face. He reeled back from the impact and released her wrist, enabling her to push him away and down to the bed. "Don't you _ever_ raise your hand to me again!" She flexed her sore wrist, wincing at the pain shooting up from it and her face as she licked the open wound in the corner of her mouth.

He chuckled bitterly as he shook out his hand, ignoring the splits in his flesh that stretched across his knuckles. "Or what? You'll leave?"

"I'm leaving you anyway."

His head snapped up as he stood and took a step closer. "What?"

Her gaze was steady as she met his eyes and repeated, "I'm leaving you. We're through."

"To go where? Bette's?" he asked pompously.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't!" he roared. He rushed across the room, stopping scant inches from her body. "I saved your life last night! If it weren't for me, you'd be splattered across the stone patio! You owe me! No one else would've charged head first outside in the middle of a thunderstorm to pull you down!"

Adrenaline coursed through her veins and she straightened her spine, looking AJ straight in the eye as she said calmly, "Yes, _he_ would have." Her eyes never left his as they froze, blank confusion replacing the glint of rage until the light of realization flickered on.

"You-," he sputtered. "You- He?"

She stood quietly in front of him, her eyes still and calm. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "It just happened."

He sighed, a long sigh that seemed to expel every drop of air from his body. "You're sorry?" he asked as he turned away, his head down as he rubbed the back of his neck tiredly.

"I am."

He waved her away dismissively as he sank back down to the bed. "You're sorry," he snorted. "A lot of good that does me." He looked back up at her, standing quietly with her hands clasped demurely in front of her. "Who is he?" She paused visibly and he felt his anger resurface, egged on by the blow to his pride he just suffered. "Don't turn bashful on me now!" he snapped as her eyes narrowed. "I'd like to know who my wife's been carrying on with!"

"Gregory Richards," she answered softly. The last ribbon of secrecy fluttered away from her soul. The last secret was out. Nothing stood between them now except the truth. The brutally honest truth, as cold and harsh as it was.

"Oh God," AJ groaned. He hung his head in his hands, leaning over his knees as he muttered, "Why him? _Anyone_ but him." He glanced back up at her, his eyes clouded over with anguish. "How could you do this to me?"

Olivia stifled the urge to roll her eyes in exasperation. "It wasn't about you," she said, struggling to keep her tone non-confrontational. He frowned hurtfully as she sighed, "You had nothing to do with it."

"And I suppose he knows how you take your damn tea!"

She couldn't help but beam, the crack in her lip howling in icy pain that killed the brief smile a moment later, but AJ saw it nonetheless. In that instant he knew that Gregory Richards knew how she took her tea. And much, much more.

He leaned back over his knees and muttered, "Of course he does."

She walked over to him, slow and careful steps. Leaving her throbbing wrist at her side, she scooped up her coat and bag with one hand and glanced down at AJ. "I'm sorry," she whispered again.

AJ didn't look up as she took her address book from her nightstand and left the room.

Walking slowly down the stairs, she gripped the railing as her body still raced from the adrenaline spike. "Don't bother to come up," she suggested as she saw Bette coming across the foyer. The red head glanced up in surprise and waited at the foot of the stairs. "I'm ready to go."

"What the hell happened to you!" Bette exclaimed as Olivia stepped off the last stair, dropping her purse to the ground as she struggled into her coat with one arm. "Your face! And what the hell happened to your hand?"

"I need you to drive me to the airport," she said, ignoring the other questions as Bette held the coat up, allowing her to slide the arm with the hurt wrist into the sleeve.

"The airport?"

"Yes," she nodded as she bent down to retrieve her bag, shoving the address book inside. "I'm going to New York."


	44. One's Loss, Another's Gain

(See first part for disclaimer, spoilers, notes, etc.)

Chapter 44: "One's Loss, Another's Gain"

Bette closed the door of her apartment quietly and leaned against it. The waterfront condominium looked the same as it had when she tore out of it earlier this morning. Dozens of couture magazines littered the floor of the sitting room, the glossy pages reflecting the glare of the sun. She picked a glass of soda, most likely flat by now, and grimaced at the perspiration ring that stained the rich brown wood of the tea table.

"Never liked you anyway," she muttered to the table as she sat the glass back down and sank into the softness of the plush sofa. Was it only this morning that AJ called in a panic, whispering into the phone that Olivia was in trouble? That despite her better judgment, she put Olivia alone on a flight that took her away from Sunset Beach, probably for good? She had wanted to go with her, not trusting that she'd make it alone with all her injuries.

"Livy-"

"Bette, I'll be fine. I don't think I have a concussion. I never lost consciousness and I haven't vomited." Olivia pulled the airline ticket gently out from her friend's tight grip and smiled reassuringly. "I look worse than I really am, I think."

"Uh huh." She sighed dramatically and pulled Olivia away from the boarding gate. "Follow my finger with your eyes," she ordered as she took her friend's chin in her hand, careful to avoid the cut on her slightly swollen lip.

Olivia giggled and tried to push her away. "You aren't a doctor."

"I was married to one. It's the next best thing. Now, follow my finger." She waved her finger from side to side slowly, then up and down. Olivia's blue eyes moved obediently, trailing easily after her finger.

"Want me to stick out my tongue and say 'ahhh' too?"

"Cheeky," Bette muttered as she chucked Olivia's chin before letting it go. "Humor is a good sign," she admitted as she rooted around the inside of her deep shoulder bag. "But we have to do something about that bruise- ah ha!" She triumphantly pulled a long scarf out of her bag. "Turn around," she asked as she folded the square material into a triangle and draped it over Olivia's head, making sure that it was down low enough on her forehead that the discoloration was covered. Two quick ties later and she was draping the excess neatly over Olivia's shoulder.

"You're a genius." Olivia turned around as she adjusted the scarf on her head.

"I don't hear that too often." She stared at Olivia for a long moment. "So I guess this is it, huh Toots?"

"Bette," she whispered shakily, "don't you make me cry." She laughed nervously and reached for her friend, giving her hand a soft squeeze. "I'm not going to Siberia, you know?"

"I know," Bette said, her voice cracking noticeably. "It's just…well- you know. You and me, Toots. Lucy and Ethel. Mary and Rhoda. Laverne and Shirley."

Olivia threw her arms around Bette, hugging her close. She closed her eyes as a tear rolled down her cheek and the hug was returned tightly. "You're just upset that you never got to be the Mary," she teased halfheartedly.

"I'm not upset. I'm not crying," Bette insisted as she pulled back, wiping at her suspiciously misty eyes. She forced a smile to her face as a disembodied voice came over the loudspeaker, announcing that those holding tickets for Flight 55 should begin boarding. "That's you Toots," she said in a broken whisper.

"Yes," Olivia said softly as she glanced over at the gate. Their hands were molded together, neither wanting to break away first. "New York really isn't that far away," she pointed out, though she wasn't sure if it was Bette or herself she was trying comfort.

"I'll visit all the time. So much so that you'll be sick of me."

"You know that won't happen."

"That I'll visit?"

Her smile was soft as she corrected, "The other."

Bette sniffled as she pulled a tissue out of the box and dabbed at her eyes. She was relieved in a way. Olivia's leaving was the best thing for her. It was her chance for happiness with Gregory. And she understood that. But it still didn't make saying goodbye to her closest friend in the world any easier.

She sighed and drew her knees up to her chest, curling into the corner of the sofa. A beam of warm sunlight came in through the delicate bamboo blinds that she and husband number two bought on their Japanese honeymoon.

"I'm not crying," she said aloud as tears spilled down her cheeks. She buried her face in her knees, her sobbing echoing off the vaulted ceilings.

* * *

Olivia slumped back in her seat, alternating the small bag of partially melted ice between her wrist and her face. There was some faint bruising on her wrists, visible reminders of the way AJ's fingers dug into her flesh. Her lip was improving slightly. The puffiness was receding and the cut had finally crusted over with dried blood. As the day wore on, it seemed to her that she just looked worse. Or maybe she was just getting used to seeing the damage inflicted on her body. She really wasn't sure which scenario she found more disturbing. 

A ninety-minute layover in Dallas had given her time to eat, temporarily chasing away the hunger pains in her stomach. Under normal circumstances, she would've avoided the questionable refreshment stand, but she didn't want to leave the concourse. The aroma of the coffee though had been too tempting to resist. Steam billowed off the surface as she added her usual milk and two sugars before sipping gratefully from the large Styrofoam cup. She ignored the bitter taste, an indication that the coffee pot sat too long on the hot plate but she didn't care. As far as she was concerned, it was the best thing she ever drank. And the slightly stale lemon poppy seed muffin? Heavenly.

She glanced out the small oval window. The late afternoon sun was behind them when they left Dallas and they had been flying into the darkness for close to three hours. White mist hurled past the window as they neared the East Coast and LaGuardia Airport.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she glanced up quickly. "I'm sorry," the flight attendant said softly as she leaned over the aisle seat, "but would you like some more coffee?"

Nodding mechanically, she gently pushed the heavy ceramic mug across the tray table and closer to the outstretched steaming pot. She promised Bette that she'd stay awake and avoid sleep at all costs. The doctor's ex-wife was still wary of a concussion, though as the day wore on, it was clear that she lucked out and avoided that ailment. _As for the rest of me_, she thought as she peered at her reflection in her compact mirror, _I've seen better days_.

After adjusting the scarf on her head for what seemed like the hundredth time, she tucked the mirror back in her bag and sighed. Too tired to ask for the extras, she drank the coffee black and grimaced at the taste. Whatever it took to stay awake.

The flight attendant returned a moment later and exchanged the melting pack of ice for a fresh one. She smiled encouragingly at Olivia and patted her shoulder before leaving a small paper cup on the tray in front of her. She peered into the cup as the attendant walked back up the aisle. Two aspirin. She glanced behind her to look for the woman, but didn't see her.

When she boarded in Dallas, with the scarf and a pair of sunglasses covering a large portion of her face, the flight attendant looked directly at her. Emotions washed across the stranger's face and something flickered in her eyes. It was the look of a woman who knew all too well how Olivia received the welt on her cheekbone and the split on her lip.

She sighed tiredly as she popped the aspirin in her mouth, washing them down with a swallow of the coffee. The cabin was relatively quiet, save for the murmuring of quiet conversation between the passengers and the hum of the air filtration system. The empty seat to her right was a blessing. She was in no mood for awkward airline talk.

Finishing the last mouthful of coffee, she set the mug aside as she opened the address book for the for the dozenth time today. She had read the same four lines until they were imprinted in her memory. _200 Central Park South_.

Wincing at the cold, she rested the ice on her wrist as she mouthed, "Apartment 1805. New York, New York." She leaned back comfortably in the seat as she whispered, "Gregory H. Richards. 200 Central Park South. Apartment 1805. New York, New York." A bell pinged in the cabin and a moment later a deep voice crackled over the intercom.

"_Ladies and gentleman, we have now begun our descent into LaGuardia Airport. A stewardess will be along in a moment to collect your discards and return your tray to the upright position. Anticipating clearance from tower control, we will be landing on runway two-niner, e.t.a. twenty minutes_."

Brisk conversation erupted among the passengers as they began passing off their trash to the flight attendant and repacking their carry-on bags. Olivia sat up straight and shoved her bag beneath her seat after her tray was cleared. Her ears began to pop as the airplane dropped in altitude, but she welcomed the sensation. It meant she made it.

The plane cleared a cloud and she could see white pinpricks of light dotting the ground beneath her. A whine drowned out noise in the cabin as the landing equipment was prepared and another announcement came over the intercom.

"_This is Captain Redden. On behalf of myself and the crew, I thank you for choosing Tran Global Airways and urge you to remember us when you are planning future trips. Temperature on the ground is a crisp thirty-eight degrees and snow is in the forecast for later this evening. If you are visiting New York for the first time, let me be the first to welcome you. Or if you reside in Manhattan or one of the surrounding boroughs, I'd like to be the first to welcome you home. Flight attendants, prepare for landing_."

Olivia wasn't quite sure which of the welcomes applied to her but she didn't care. She didn't care if she ever left the island of Manhattan ever again. She just wanted Gregory, his arms tight around her.

The "fasten seatbelt" sign lit up and she complied, her eyes drawn to the rapidly enlarging lights coming at her. She grazed the window lightly with her fingers, marveling at its icy touch. Right now, in this moment, she couldn't be farther away from Sunset Beach if she tried.

The plane bounced and shook violently as the wheels made contact with the runway. Her throat tightened and she reinforced the dam on her fragile emotions. Not yet. Not until he was within her sight. Not until her lips were pressed intimately against his.

"Not yet," she whispered as the airplane glided to a stop.

* * *

AJ stood on the balcony, hunched over the ledge as he watched the setting sun. The orange ball was half hidden behind the horizon, scattering and staining on the ocean. A perfect sunset, one that the town was famous for. 

He snorted to himself as he raised his glass shakily, toasting the sunset. "Here's to you," he said aloud. "May you rot in Hell." He tossed his head back, swallowing the last of the Irish whisky in his glass.

He examined the empty glass for a moment. Empty like the vows they exchanged on their wedding day. Empty like his marital bed. Anger simmered in his belly and he hurled the crystal down at the patio below, where it smashed into the stone and shattered into thousands of pieces.

"May you both rot in Hell."

* * *

The yellow taxi inched forward only to jerk to a stop a moment later. The driver muttered a curse at the traffic and glanced in his rearview mirror. His fare was still in the backseat, gazing silently at the glowing lights of the Queensboro Bridge in the distance. She wanted to go to a swank apartment building on the corner Seventh Avenue, across from the park. He craned his neck, gauging the amount of cars between them and the bridge on-ramp. 

Wrenching around, he asked, "You wanna wait for the bridge? Otherwise we can take the Midtown Tunnel into the city, but then we'll need to go uptown."

Olivia glanced up at him. "I don't care. I just want to get there quickly."

"I'd take the bridge then." The driver reached for his radio and said into it, "Hey dispatch? We got an update on the holdup at the Queensboro?" A harsh series of near unintelligible crackling and static erupted back, causing her to jump. "Gotcha."

A hole opened up in the far right lane and the driver moved in quickly, speeding up in the lane. "Dispatch said the accident's been cleared and we'll be moving soon."

As long as _someone_ understood what dispatch was saying.

It turned out that they were right. The traffic was breaking up and they began to move. Within minutes, the taxi was speeding across the bridge, Queens in their wake. A curtain of lights loomed in front of her like stars in a dark sky. She clutched her bag tighter in her lap and shivered. Her trench coat was far too thin for the chilly New York weather.

A chorus of car horns and engines greeted the taxi as it came off the bridge and navigated through the busy streets. Cars, cars everywhere. The taxi jerked to a stop at a large intersection and a sea of people swarmed off the sidewalks. A light mist fell from the sky, possibly the onset of the predicted snow, and caught in the headlight beams.

The taxi began moving again, seemingly tamer within the walls of the city. Tall buildings rose up on either side of them, until a stretch of space ran along the passenger side. Street lamps spilled pools of yellow light onto the sidewalk and revealing a sturdy fencing.

"Is that Central Park?" she asked softly, her eyes riveted to the little scenery she was able to make out in the darkness.

"You got it." The taxi swerved off to the side, rocking to a stand still next to the curb. "Here you are."

She fumbled in her wallet for the fare as she peered out the opposite window. A brightly illuminated building, the curved building that looked to be made of windows on the park side. She pressed a wad of folded up bills into the driver's outstretched palm and opened the door, stepping out of the cab. An invisible wall of coldness slammed into her body as she clutched her coat closed. The light mist dampened her face as wind swirled down the street, stinging her ears.

Glancing quickly at the street, she darted across the pavement and walked around to the corner and the main entrance. A doorman in a uniform of forest green, gold braids ornamenting his shoulders, nodded politely as he stood at attention and held open the glass door. "Thank you," she said as she passed through the doors, sighing in relief at the warmth in the lobby.

Black and white marble flooring lined with richly colored carpets brought warmth to the lobby. Sleek furniture and cherry wood tables finished off the elegant ambiance, as did the large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"May I help you?"

Olivia walked over to the security desk, resting her hands lightly on the surface of the antique wood. "Yes, I'm here to see Gregory Richards in 1805."

"Name please?" the guard asked, as he opened a thick ledger in front of him.

"Olivia Deschanel." She tapped her fingers lightly as the man's finger ran down the page twice before he looked back up at her.

"Is Mr. Richards expecting you?" The guard stood up, inspecting the woman in front of him. She had lovely blue eyes that were blood shot and puffy. He noted the bruising on her face before forcing his gaze back to the guest ledger. "I don't see your name."

She bit her lip and began to anxiously tug at her hands. "He isn't expecting me. It's…sort of a surprise visit."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but unless your name is on the list, I'm not permitted to allow you upstairs." Her face fell and she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulders. The wide cuff of her sleeve rolled down as she did and he couldn't help but see the discoloration on her wrist.

"Oh," she trailed off as her eyes turned down to the floor. "Is there anyway that you could call him and let him know I'm down here?" she asked hopefully after a moment. Her eyes burned into his, a silent plea echoing in the depths of the blue. "Please?"

The guard paused and looked her over once more. She looked harmless and if anything, it appeared that she had already been harmed herself. And her name certainly wasn't on the list of those that Mr. Richards prohibited from coming up to his eighteenth floor apartment. "I hope this doesn't cost me my job," he muttered as he reached for the white phone.

"Oh thank you," she gushed as she reached into her bag and removed the small compact. Why she bothered checking her reflection, she wasn't really sure. She smiled to herself and chalked it up to habit as the guard spoke softly into the phone.

"Mr. Richards? Sorry to disturb you sir, but this is the front desk. There's a woman asking to be let up to your apartment, but her name isn't on the list. She said her name is Olivia-" He broke off abruptly and glanced up in surprise. "Yes, sir. I understand." He beckoned her closer as he nodded into the phone, "Yes, sir. I'll put her on the elevator myself. Good night."

He hung up the phone and took Olivia gently by the arm, leading her over to the elevator. He nodded at the elevator operator, who sprang into action and held open the metal fence. "Mr. Richards requested that I ensure you get into the elevator safely and he'll meet you on his floor. Take her up to eighteen, Ray," he instructed the operator. "Enjoy your stay, ma'am."

"Thank you," she called out, the fence rattling as the operator locked it in place and the outer door rolled shut. The elevator was dim, antique lamps jutting out from the wood paneling on the walls. A delicately sculpted needle above the door tracked their journey up, the thin metal moving quickly into the teens.

She dropped the compact back into her bag, noting the way her hand trembled in anticipation. She hadn't been this nervous since their first time, all those months ago. Her fingers fluttered as she straightened the collar of her coat, tucking the tail of the scarf underneath. Her heart pounded against her ribcage and the wings of restlessness flapped against the wall of her stomach. Fifteen.

Stepping closer to the door, she stood directly next to the operator. She tapped her foot, the slap on the floor drowned out as the elevator pinged.

"Eighteen," the operator said as the outer door groaned slowly open, revealing a man waiting patiently in the hallway. Gregory shifted his feet as the operator pulled the fencing aside.

And she just stood there, staring blankly. The lump of emotion that she desperately tried to bury on the plane materialized again, settling painfully in her throat. Her vision blurred, the maroon of his robe blurring into the wall behind him. Had he always looked like the calm port amid the rough seas or was that only because of the roller coaster of emotions she'd been on for the last twenty-four hours?

"I'm sorry," she whispered as he stepped into the elevator, his hand brushing against hers. "For the other day, I'm sorry."

The sob rose in her throat as cupped her face, gazing quietly into her eyes. Layers of pain and anxiety that had burned at her soul all day extinguished, as the pounding of her heart calmed. If he had any reaction to her physical appearance, he hid it well. The only thing she could read in his face was incredulousness.

"I have to be dreaming," he said in the barest of whispers for her ears only. His thumbs skimmed over the flesh of her jaw and she couldn't help but sigh. "That's the only way you'd be standing here."

His simple disbelief coaxed a smile from her lips. She'd need to make up for the harsh reality that two days ago would've made it true. "My feet hurt too much for this to be a dream."

The delicate pressure of his lips against hers comforted her, like returning to the safety of your home after a long day at work. She leaned against him as his fingers trailed across the flesh of her neck. He pulled back, a half smile curling the corners of his mouth as he glanced at her feet and clucked his tongue in mock disapproval. "I can take care of that," he promised as he bent down, scooping her into his arms.

Relief mixed with deadening exhaustion as she slumped into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. "I know you will," she mumbled as he carried her out of the elevator. She closed her eyes tiredly as he kissed her forehead, the scarf sliding back to her hairline. The burning pain in her limbs ceased to matter as the aches faded into the dark. His arms around her back and curled under her knees was enough.

Feathered wings of calm surrounded her, in the form of Gregory's voice as he whispered, "You're safe. It's over now."

Her fingers clenched around the gray lapel of his robe, the silk cool to her touch as she snuggled against him. He was right. It was all over. There was nothing else to hide because everything was out in the open. Her fears conquered, banished away to the dark ravine they slithered up from. For the first time in a long time, she was finally safe.


	45. To Wake at the Dawn

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 45: "To Wake at the Dawn"

For all that it is, the body really is rather incredible. The abuse it can take, the pain it can withstand, yet it endures. Endures and adapts to the world it inhabits. The most everyday things become second nature and slight variations are noticed immediately.

It was in this frame of mind that Olivia slowly found herself waking. The mattress was firmer beneath her body and sheets with a foreign texture rubbed against her skin. It was quiet. Deathly quiet, as if she was the only person left in the world. In a world of darkness.

She opened her eyes slowly, groaning softly as she shifted. Her legs felt like lead and her eyelids were even heavier. Scratchy and dry, she blinked rapidly as she tried to adjust to the lack of light. It was…unfamiliar. The air was drier and smelled almost spicy, with an undercurrent of smoke. Cigar smoke. When did AJ start smoking cigars?

His arm was heavy around her waist, a block of warmth pressed comfortingly against her back. And it was on the wrong side. She was on the wrong side of the bed entirely. What was going on? She brushed away an itch on her forehead and rolled over onto her back.

"You awake?"

Her head flew towards Gregory's voice as his arm gripped her waist and he nuzzled his face against her ear. And it all came back to her as reality dawned. The balcony. AJ hitting her. He knew about Gregory. The planes. Gregory carrying her off the elevator.

His fingers tiredly stroked the side of her stomach. "You should be," he mumbled through a yawn. "You slept all day yesterday." His eyes opened a crack, the brown glazed over with sleepiness.

"I lost a day?" she asked softly as she started to push herself up.

"You needed the sleep," he explained as he pulled her back down to him, reaching across to turn on the lamp sitting atop the night table. "You needed to rest."

She blinked at the pale light and snuggled back against him, relaxing into the warmth of his arms and the gentleness of his breath lightly baptizing her forehead. "That would explain," she said after a moment, "the ache in my stomach."

"You're hungry?" His hand slid across to her stomach, rubbing gently in circular motions.

"A bit." She couldn't help but sigh and close her eyes as the hunger pangs in her stomach faded away. Strong and steady, his palm chased them away until the heavens opened and her cramping muscles stilled. She raised her eyes as she caressed his face, the tired smile turning to a frown when she noticed the bandage around her wrist.

He kissed her fingertips and clasped her hand gently. "It's alright," he assured her with a nod to her wrist. "I woke up a friend of the family."

"I hope he was a doctor," she joked.

"As a matter of fact, he _is_." He smiled tiredly and added, "And a good one at that. You were half asleep by the time he got here." His fingers ran through her hair, rippling the long tresses. "Arthur said that you're going to be fine. Your wrist is twisted and he wants to keep it wrapped for a few weeks. Your fingernails," he said softly as his lips grazed the bandages, "will grow back. And you don't have a concussion." He kissed her forehead gently and whispered, "In short, you'll heal. And that's about the only thing AJ has in his favor at the moment."

She sighed and drew her bandaged hand around his neck, fingering his hair. "He knows about us. I- I told him…everything."

His sigh met hers as his fingers trailed the length of her face and gently played with her ear lobe. "That's no excuse for doing this, _any_ of this, to you."

She scoffed and turned her head up to look at him. "He didn't do all of this." His fingers slowed to a stop and he cupped her cheek, warm and encouraging. "I did," she whispered. "It was me."

He didn't say anything. Not a word, his eyes never straying from hers. "You don't have to-" he started to say before she leaned up, pressing her finger to his lips.

"Please," she whispered urgently. "I've always tried to be honest with you." Her head fell, resting against his chin as she struggled for the words. "I don't want to keep anything from you. I don't want there to be any secrets between us."

He grasped her shoulder, squeezing it gently as he placed a kiss on the top of her head. "You can tell me anything," he promised in a whisper. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close and stroked her back, following the curve of her spine.

Burrowing into his embrace, Olivia rested her cheek against his shoulder. "I wasn't…myself. Otherwise, I don't think I would've-"

"Would've what?"

She forced herself up, lifting her head so that their eyes were even. His hair was mussed, all sleep rumpled and fly away. She brushed a lock of it off his forehead as she answered softly, "Come so close to dying."

She closed her eyes against the silence and the frozen look in his eyes. Perhaps it had been wrong to tell him now, so soon after arriving and throwing his life into a tailspin. His fingers grazed her cheek softly as she continued quickly, "I almost jumped off the balcony and-…I was…miserable and depressed and- and-…" Her chin trembled and her sigh was more of a shudder as she blinked back tears. "You were right," she whispered tearfully. "Right about _everything_."

"Liv," he whispered as he drew her close, his hand cupping the back of her head.

"I was so afraid," she sniffled into his neck, her fingers gripping his shoulders, "of being hurt that-…Oh, it didn't matter a bit, did it?" She pulled back and sighed, leaning against the headboard as he reached for her hand. "I trusted that AJ wouldn't hurt me and that's what he ended up doing."

"You didn't deserve it," he offered after a moment.

"I know," she sighed. "I- I was wrong. I gave my trust to the wrong man." She slumped against him, her head on his shoulder as she looked up. "I know that now. You," she whispered, "would never hurt me." His finger trailed the curve of her chin and down to the softness of her neck as she continued, "You love me."

"You just realized that?" Gregory couldn't help but smile as she giggled, her cheeks tinged rose. The brush of her foot against his echoed the presence of life as she draped her leg in between his. What would it have been like, never feeling that sensation again? For her flesh to be unnaturally cool and her soft laughter silenced forever? He pressed his face down into her hair and took her in. The feel of it against his face, the scent of it filling his nostrils and very being. She was alive. Alive and here.

"Of course not darling. I've always known," she assured him softly as she wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve. He lifted his head up and she craned her neck to kiss his jawbone. "Always." She settled against him again and closed her eyes as his fingers gently played with the hair falling over her shoulder. Sleeping for over a day should have left her refreshed and ready to face the morning. But the soft pressure of his fingers against her scalp and the warmth of the bed were slowly lulling her back to a happy state of drowsiness. "Can you ever forgive me?" she mumbled. His hands slowed to a stop in her hair and she forced her eyes open.

"Forgive you for what?"

"Walking out on you the other day. For being afraid. For making you wait. For nearly dying-"

"But you didn't." He hugged her closer, rubbing her shoulder as he repeated, "You're here."

"With you," she finished softly as he lowered his mouth to hers.

His fingers pressed lightly into her chin, his lips against hers. Sighing against her lips, he pulled her closer, the belt of his robe falling away from her body. The flesh of her waist was warm as his hand grazed it slowly, almost cautiously. It ran around to her back, resting flat as her arms ringed his neck. His other hand cupped the back of her head, burying itself in her hair as their lips fought playfully for control.

As he kissed his way up to her earlobe, she sighed and asked, "So, this means you forgive me?"

The chuckle was deep in his throat and he nibbled on the soft lobe before sitting back. "Liv, if it makes you feel better to hear me say it, then yes, I do." He kissed her softly and whispered, "Two days ago it was just me, myself, and a carton of Chinese takeout. And now there's you."

"Mmmm," she sighed as she licked her lips hungrily, "Chinese takeout."

With another amused chuckle, he kicked back the sheets and pushed himself out of bed. "Not at," he grimaced with a glance at the clock, "quarter after six in the morning. But I'm sure there's something in the kitchen for you to eat." She drew her knees to her chest, watching quietly as he shrugged into a robe that was bunched at the foot of the bed and stepped into the bathroom. "I usually," he called out while brushing his teeth, "don't keep much food here."

"Why not?" She swung her feet out of the bed, easing off the edge slowly as she put more weight on her legs. She tightened the robe's belt as she walked over to the window and gently pulled back the thick curtains. The sky was still dark, through brightening slowly to a dull gray. Her fingers tightened around the curtain as she looked down at the street over a dozen stories below her. Busy, even at this hour of the morning.

"I eat out," he explained as he tossed his hand towel on the counter and flicked off the light, "so it seemed rather pointless to buy a lot." His hands rested comfortably on her shoulders and he leaned forward to kiss her ear.

"That'll have to change." She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling up at him. "I like to eat."

"Anything you want."

"Just you," she answered to his whispered promise. "I just want you."

"You've always had me." His hands cupped her face as their foreheads touched and her arms slid down to his waist. It was harmonious, with just the sounds of their breathing filling the silence. Her head turned into his neck as his thumbs stroked her cheeks and she couldn't help but smile at how natural it felt. To stand with Gregory like this, in his apartment in New York, never mind a room that wasn't a hotel room.

"Come on," he said as he rubbed her shoulders, "we'll never get you anything to eat if we just stand here." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close as he led her out of the bedroom. "I'll give you the grand tour later…not that there's much to see anyway."

The hard wood floor was warm beneath their feet as they walked down the long hallway. Olivia blinked her eyes as they stepped into the living room. The large rectangular windows were bare, the magnificent view overlooking Central Park unobstructed. What caught her attention though, rather than the park and surrounding city, were the dozens of boxes piled onto the coffee table.

"What are those?" His nonchalant shrug intrigued her and she playfully poked his chest. "Gregory," she said with a small laugh, "tell me."

He shook his head as he gently pushed her down to the sofa. "I'm going to scrounge up breakfast and hot coffee for us. You just relax and if you feel the need to open any of those boxes then by all means, go right ahead." He winked at her over his shoulder and smiled.

She frowned as he disappeared, presumably to the kitchen, the door swinging aimlessly in his wake. Curling up against the back, she tucked her feet beneath her and eyed the mountain of boxes. At least two dozen, by her best estimate. So many boxes of varying sizes that some had tumbled down to the floor beneath. Her fingers itched in her lap as she continued to watch them. Curiosity _had_ been a weakness of hers since childhood.

After several moments, she leaned forward and plucked one of the boxes from the base. More slid down from the top until the pile lay flat on the table, the excess spilling down to the ground. She sat the box on her lap and pulled the cover off slowly. The red tissue paper crinkled as she pushed it aside, her fingers brushing over a creamy white cashmere sweater. She smiled as she rubbed the sweater against her cheek, sighing against the softness of it.

She reached for another box after folding the sweater and setting it aside. Her jaw dropped in quiet awe as she pulled out a long robe, different shades of purple dyed on the silk. The box it came in slid off her lap as she stood up, stripping off Gregory's robe and replacing it with the new one.

The strong aroma of coffee greeted her as she pushed through the swinging door, knotting the robe's belt loosely around her waist. Her feet padded across the black and white tiled floor, causing Gregory to turn away from the counter.

He smiled and said, "I see your curiosity won out in the end. It took you longer than I thought it would though."

She shrugged and dipped her finger in the glass jar, licking grape jelly off the tip. "Maybe next time."

"Maybe," he allowed as he grabbed the sash and pulled it, and her, closer to him. "I like this."

"Do you?" she asked softly as his lips caught her finger, laden with the fruit preserve.

"Mm-hmm." Her eyes flashed as his tongue curled around her finger, sucking on it for a long teasing moment. His eyes laughed as she pulled it away slowly, licking the length of it one last time. "I told my shopper that this color brought out your eyes."

Her amused smirk said it all, though she couldn't resist giggling. "Your shopper?"

"Of course. You don't think I really go to these stores myself?"

"Oh, of course not," she said with a faux seriousness that caused him to smile. "Thank you for the clothes, but you really didn't need to."

"Liv, as much fun as we'd have, you can't live in my bathrobe."

"Damn…and I was _so_ looking forward to that too." She burst into amused laughter that caused him to chuckle and he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "By the way," she added as she rubbed the back of her hand against his unshaven cheek, "did I mention that I liked this rustic look on you?"

"No, but it's so noted." He glanced back at the still brewing pot of coffee, then down at the counter. "So, this is the kitchen."

She glanced around and nodded her approval as she loosened the belt of his robe. "I see," she whispered as he tugged on the purple belt, her robe falling open. "We've never made love in a kitchen before."

He gripped her waist and hoisted her onto the counter, pushing the open jar of jelly aside. She pushed the robe off his shoulders, her fingers digging into his flesh as he pulled her to the edge.

"There's a lot we've never done- and I don't just mean sex," he mumbled as he kissed his way across her collarbone.

She gasped as his teeth and tongue alternately played with her breast and she forced him to look up at her. "We'll make up for it. _All_ of it. We've got all the time in the world now."

His hands crept beneath the flaps of her robe, wrapping around to grip her rear and pull her even closer. She shivered as he ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, flames twitching low in her stomach. He kissed her quivering breast as her legs locked around him.

For all that it is, the body really is rather incredible. The way it can revel in being alive and the glory that comes with it. The way the physical corrects itself when wounds of the emotions and the soul are healed. When expressions of the body can be more than just expressions. When they become unspoken vows, promises of a future and a new life. When the body, and the soul, are reborn.


	46. Only the Best

_**NOTE: This chapter is RATED ADULT for sexual content. **_

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 46: "Only the Best"

The sharp rap at the door set the puppy off with high-pitched yapping and a scurrying of nails on the hardwood floor. Bette muttered an exasperated curse and bent to scoop up the tiny Maltese, its paws batting her arms. "Hold still please," she said pleasantly to the dog as she pulled open the door.

"What the hell is that!"

"A dog." Bette turned away, leaving the door for Del to close.

"The hell it is," he insisted as she sank into the sofa, the puppy curling up in her lap. "Dogs are big…with a killer instinct and bloodthirsty appetite! That," he said with disdain, "is…hell, nothing more than a rat."

She rolled her eyes at her older brother and rubbed her nose against the puppy's wet black one. "He didn't mean that, Holly Golightly," she assured the white dog, who responded by licking her chin lovingly.

"You couldn't even give it a good name!" he grimaced, folding his arms behind his head and stretching his feet on top of the coffee table.

"_She_ has a _wonderful_ name," Bette sniffed as the puppy jumped off her lap and stretched out on the floor in front of the patio doors, basking in a warm shaft of light. "_Breakfast at Tiffany's_ was a movie that spoke to me. What are you doing here?"

"Why do you say it like that? 'What are you doing here?'" he mimicked.

"Del," she said, clucking her tongue, "you're my older brother. I'm naturally suspicious of you."

"For your information, I am here to invite you to dinner tonight."

She shrugged, tucking her feet beneath her body and leaning against the arm of the sofa. "You could've called and invited me."

"But then I would've missed the pleasure of your company," he explained, his teeth flashing as he grinned broadly.

She eyed him carefully, her brow arched in thought until an idea clicked and she smirked knowingly. "You need a date and you've got no one else."

His neck flushed a deep shade of scarlet, creeping slowly into his face and she couldn't help but feel triumphant. Just a _tad_ triumphant. Sometimes her older brother really did make it too easy for her.

"My date backed out at the last minute," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. His feet thudded on the floor as he sat up, causing Holly Golightly to lift her head and sniff the air before yelping. He glared stonily at the dog until she whimpered and laid her small head between her two front paws. "But out of all my girls, _you_ are my favorite," he purred with a wink.

"I'd prefer 'woman' than 'girl', thank you." She sighed tiredly and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "Isn't there anyone else you can take? You know dozens of women-"

"And I'm persona non grata with nearly all of them." Her face scrunched and he leaned forward, frowning sadly and whined, "Bette, I'm desperate."

"Oh, I don't know," she sighed, bending down to scratch the dog's ear.

"Then you have to help me find someone for tonight…please," he was quick to add when she looked up and glared at him. "One of your friends _has_ to be free tonight. Or Olivia's. She's got to have a cute friend who's not busy. Ask her for me, will you?"

She glanced up quickly and the puppy barking unhappily as she took her attention away. "Do you live under a rock or something?"

"Huh?"

"Tell me you haven't heard."

"Apparently I haven't." He glared down at Holly Golightly, who was cautiously sniffing the hem of his pants. "Scat!" he snapped, stomping his foot on the floor. The puppy scurried away in fright, fleeing to safety beneath the coffee table. "So, what haven't I heard?"

"Olivia's gone."

"Gone where?"

"Away from Sunset Beach. She left AJ over a week ago."

Del whistled long and low. "Get outta here," he marveled. As an afterthought, he added, "For good?"

"Yes, of course for good!" She pulled Holly Golightly onto her lap, hugging the small warm body close.

"But," he sputtered after a moment, "all that mon- How can she just walk away from all that money!"

"There are things more important than that," she explained softly. She glanced up, staring intensely into her brother's eyes. "Things you wouldn't understand."

"Oh please," he sighed, flicking a miniscule piece of lint off his pants. "Not this love crap again."

"Her very life was at stake!" she insisted, surprise replacing the boredom etched into Del's face. "Terrible things were happening to her in that house. AJ was-"

"He actually did something worth talking about?" She glared at him so quickly that he briefly wondered if her expression would permanently stick that way. The tightness of her mouth and the anger simmering in her blue-green eyes suggested that now was not the right time for his brand of humor. "What did that mama's boy do that was so terrible?"

Bette bit her lip and glanced down. He might be unreliable and completely self-absorbed, but he was still her brother…and she _did_ need someone to talk to. Someone who would let her confess the suspicions that had burdened her of late. "I'm nearly positive," she began, choosing her words carefully, "that he drugged Olivia."

Butterflies began to twitch in Del's stomach and the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention when she clarified, "I think he gave her LSD."

Licking at his lips to combat his sudden dry mouth, he shook his head. "Acid? Why the hell would he do a crazy thing like that?"

She cocked her head and shrugged. "Any number of reasons. He and Olivia weren't on the best of terms before she left. It could've been…_punishment_," she gulped, fighting away nausea at the mere suggestion.

"Punishment?" he repeated dryly as he stood up. Forcing a weak smile, he wagged his finger playfully and said, "He was probably trying to take a hit himself and screwed it up." He bent down and kissed the top of her head, ignoring the uncertainty in her eyes. "I've gotta run. You take care now."

She followed him to the door, still cradling Holly Golightly in her arms. "Listen Del, about tonight…if you really need-"

"Oh hell darlin', don't worry about it." He grinned and adjusted the collar of his jacket. "I just realized I've got something more important to take care of tonight. Catch you later."

She stood in the doorway, watching him saunter down the hallway to the elevator. "Flighty, Holly Golightly," she said, shaking her head. The puppy looked up and cocked its head, large black eyes blinking tiredly. "That's what he is: flighty."

* * *

The fire snapped and hissed behind the glass screen, a faint glow from the flames washed over the couple. The black fur blanket stretched across the wood floor, protecting Olivia's bare back from friction burns. She clung to Gregory, pressing her lips to his neck as her legs tightened around his waist. 

She gasped as he hit deeper and her hips arched, grinding against his. His chest rubbed against hers, coarse against smooth. Never had two such opposites felt so titillating. The air crackled around them, not just because of the fire. A moan purred low in her throat, his hands gripping her wrists and pinning them above her head. He slowed down long enough to trail his tongue teasingly across her left breast.

Her hands bucked against his as he silenced another gasp with his mouth. Air was shared now as she devoured his lips, salt stinging her lips. "Don't stop," she urged as they broke apart, his lock around her hands loosening.

He turned onto his side, pulling her against him until nothing was between them but a thin sheen of perspiration on their chests. Damp curls stuck to her neck as he cupped her bottom, a scream of release dying against his lips. The world could've crumbled down around them, but she wouldn't have cared. Her head was profoundly clear, as clear as his panting was against her cheek. As clear as the way he delicately kissed her lips as he pulled the blanket around them.

Her arm dangled over his waist as she shrugged into the warmth of his chest, her heartbeat slowing to normal again. Every spot on her body tingled, from the tips of her toes to the lobes of her ears. She pushed herself up, smiling as he lay with his eyes closed. With ease, her tongue darted out to lap up a rivulet of sweat rolling slowly down from his hairline.

The stillness of his face broke as he smiled tiredly. "You're going to be the death of me," he mumbled.

With a giggle, she brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. She combed through it with her fingers and sighed, "Well, there are _worse_ ways to go."

"That's true," he said through a yawn. His brown eyes opened a crack, his hand lightly stroking her back. It was a juxtaposition of temperature, the heat of her flesh and the coolness of perspiration covering it. He loved it.

Sighing gently, Olivia draped her leg between his and slid down to the side, letting him hug her close again. Her knuckles grazed against his neck, simply lying next to him wasn't enough. It wasn't enough in the way his hand trailed down her back and to the swell of her hip, squeezing gently. Contact with him had to be more, the motion of their limbs serving as reminders of where they were and how far they had come.

"I'd have to say though," he continued, "the spontaneity has been enjoyable."

"Has it?" she asked, craning her neck up to look at him.

"I think so. We've had quite a week."

Chuckling softly as she kissed his shoulder, she said, "But we haven't even left your apartment."

"We aren't allowed to do the things we've done in public," Gregory deadpanned. He watched as she leaned up again, folding her arms on his chest and laying her head down. Unabashed pride shined in her eyes and he couldn't help but grin. She'd never cease to amaze him.

"In regards to that, maybe it hasn't been so bad. But," she said thoughtfully, "we'll probably have to leave at some point." Her fingernails trailed through the hair of his chest as she asked, "Do you think you'll go back to work soon?"

The roll of his eyes said it all and she had to hide an amused grin behind her hand. "Not if I can help it."

"Why not?" she asked.

"I've got more important things here. Well," he corrected himself as she blushed bashfully, "just one thing really." His finger traced over her cheek, the slow heat shooting straight to his heart. "My spider plant has been rather temper-"

"Oh," she scoffed, poking him in the chest playfully.

Gregory's laughter cut off his own explanation and he rolled over, pinning her beneath his body. She cupped his face, drawing him closer as she caught his lips with hers. "But I," she teased, gasping for air as they broke apart, "can do things that your plant can't."

His lips kissed a path from her mouth to the soft flesh just beneath her jaw. "It's a good thing I'm keeping you around then."

"Very good," she assured him with a mock seriousness.

He nibbled on her neck wickedly, smiling at her gasp when his teeth brushed her skin. "Additionally," he added as his palm splayed across her stomach, "if I go back to the office, my family will find out you're here and they'll want to meet you…especially my mother."

Olivia pushed his hands away and sat up, drawing the fur blanket to her chest. "Your mother?"

He kneeled up, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "She's wanted nothing more than to see me married off and living out on Long Island like my brothers. And I love her dearly but-"

"But?"

Chuckling, he kissed the side of her head and explained, "But we'd never have a moment's peace. The minute she finds out about you, it'll be nothing but lunches and shopping and whatever the hell else it is that you women do together."

She fingered the bandage around her wrist, biting the corner of her lip. "Do you think all of that can wait awhile? At least until," she continued quickly as she wrenched around to face him, "I look more…_presentable_?"

"You're presentable now," he assured her quietly, taking hold of her hand. "But I've got no problem waiting. Besides," he admitted, "I'm not that anxious to share you with anyone else quite yet."

Her cheeks blushed rose again as she said softly, "I can live with that." She leaned against him, sighing contentedly as his arms went around her. Her head rested on his shoulder, his hands stroking her back. "Do you think then that we can go out today?"

"Where do you want to go?"

She giggled, traces of embarrassment clinging to the sound as she brushed wisps of hair out of her eyes. "Anywhere that I can eat."

He shrugged as he stood up, fetching his robe from the sofa and pulling it on. "I've got just the place," he promised as he held his hands down to her.

"Where?" she asked as he pulled her up.

"We're going to Brooklyn."

Her nose wrinkled. "What's there?"

"Only the best cheesecake in the world." He smacked her bottom playfully and said, "Go get dressed. We're going to _Junior's_."

She kissed him quickly, smiling broadly before turning down the hallway to the bedroom. The blanket cocooned her body, contrasting creamy white skin against dark hair and the black fur.

He watched her disappear into the bedroom, smiling to himself as he whispered, "Because you deserve nothing less than the best."


	47. A Lesson in History

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 47: "A Lesson in History"

Silence is a funny thing. It can stretch between two people forever, the emptiness saying everything words could not. Sometimes, it said more. Words of longing and loss were swallowed up by this abyss, sinking to the murky bottom that never saw the light of day. With this silence came an unpleasantness. Some it effected more than others.

Over the top of her wine glass, Julianna carefully eyed her son. He stared down at his plate, pushing the food aimlessly around his plate. His face drooped, shoulders hunched as he slumped in his chair. He didn't move, not even when his fork scratched the plate in such a way that it cut a high-pitched screech through the pregnant silence.

She flinched, the wine sloshing against the side of her goblet. He was upset, that much was clear. But why? There was no huge loss as far as she could see. Nothing was gone that couldn't be replaced. Spouses were as easy to replace as Kleenex.

She cleared her throat discreetly, wiping the corner of her mouth with the heavy cloth napkin. "AJ?"

As if a puppeteer manipulated a fine string, his head tilted up slowly. His blank stare surprised her as she asked, "Is the meal not to your liking?"

He sighed heavily, as if summoning the energy to respond took too much out of him. "It's fine, Maman. I just have no appetite."

_Why the hell not!_ Her internal scream stirred the quiet of her mind the way she longed to sway the one surrounding her reality. Her fingers tightened around the delicate stem of the glass. "Darling, I must admit that this behavior concerns me."

"Are you?"

Conversation fell short as Therese stepped forward cautiously and began clearing the dinner plates. The china, crystal, and silver clinked against one and other softly, though she tried her hardest to make as little noise as possible. She counted the seconds until she could return to the safety of the kitchen, free again from the heavy silence that sprung up when the _other_ Mrs. Deschanel left.

"Yes," Julianna hissed as Therese backed out of the dining room, her arms laden with the dinnerware. She leaned closer to her son, her blue eyes flashing as a weak form of defiance unfolded across his face.

"My wife left me," he reminded her, a twinge of uncomfortable realization rising in his throat. "She left me for another man. The lover she kept for months that I never even knew about." His eyes fell as he sat back dejectedly in his chair and he whined, "I'm a failure."

She reached across and smacked his chin lightly, more for shock value than anything. "Pull yourself together," she snapped. "No son of mine is a failure."

As AJ sat up stiffly in his chair, she continued, "You stood your ground. You confronted her. And _she_ left. _She left_!" She grabbed his hand, squeezing it as she said, "Desertion, AJ. The divorce will be in _your_ favor. _You_ are the wronged party."

He looked at his mother, his mouth falling open in quiet shock. "Divorce? My God," he gasped. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

Sighing to herself, she struggled to keep her tone even and free of the frustration building in her. "But you must. You _must_. We will be able to control the terms of the settlement. And I don't care what California law says, I will not have Olivia walking away with half of everything your father and I spent a lifetime building."

He cocked his head, an odd look on his face. "You said 'we'. 'We will be able to control the terms…' You meant to say 'I', didn't you?"

She withdrew her hand from his, laying it flat next to its twin. "Well, yes. Of course," she covered. "I only meant that I would be standing by and supporting you. _You_ are the one I care about."

He nodded vaguely, lowering his face to his hands. 'I was so angry- furious," he admitted, "the day she left." He looked up at his mother, her forehead furrowed in thought. "I was…cruel. I wasn't myself." He spoke quicker now as he sat up. "It was like there was a demon fighting me for control. The way I treated her," he trailed off, shaking his head. "It was inexcusable."

Julianna arched her eyebrow in surprise. Despite not having any of Armando's blood flowing through his veins, it appeared AJ inherited his morals and notions of chivalry. _Just my luck_.

"She betrayed you," she stated coldly. "She betrayed you with a man you despise." She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in deep. "I think," she continued slowly, "that you should contact Davis and begin-"

"Maman," he interrupted, "I am not ready to deal with a divorce yet." He pushed his chair back and stood up. "I'm sorry, but not now."

Her eyes followed him out of the dining room, a frown wrinkling her face. _Even though Olivia is no longer here, she still has her hooks in AJ_, she bemoaned to herself.

"Damnit," she swore aloud.

"Junior giving you problems?" The Suit asked from the doorway.

She shook her head, sipping the last of her wine as she waved him in. "He is still hung up on that slut."

Until they heard it for themselves, very few people would believe that such a slur could fall so easily from the perfectly shaped mouth of Julianna Deschanel. She presented herself to the world with the demeanor of 1950's housewife, though she never stooped to wearing June Cleaver pearls. They were far too domestic. Even she couldn't wear them with a straight face.

The Suit shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Love does funny things to a person."

"That's why I've avoided it at all costs. It makes a person weak. Besides," she added, "AJ will realize one day that he never loved her, not really."

_Or maybe he won't_, The Suit thought to himself as Therese made her presence in the doorway known.

"Yes? What is it?"

Therese shrank back against the testiness in Julianna's questions and longed to return to solitude in the kitchen. "Del Douglas to see you, ma'am," she announced.

"Thank you, darlin'," Del said with a wink as he strolled past her into the dining room. "Evenin' all."

"That'll be all, Therese," Julianna said as she made a mental note to fire the girl in the morning. Why keep her when she couldn't even handle announcing visitors properly? "What can I do for you, Mr. Douglas?" she asked after Therese turned and left.

"It's really more about what I can do for you."

She held back a sigh of frustration as she wondered how it was that he managed to be so bothersome. Whatever the cause, he unfortunately excelled at it. As far as she could tell, that was the _only_ thing he excelled at. "Is that so?"

"Mind if I sit down?" He looked from Julianna, to The Suit, and back again. "I hate discussing business standing up."

She gestured him into the seat AJ vacated, nodding at The Suit when he took his place behind Del. Two on one was an advantage she liked, especially if it was in her favor. "I was under the impression that our business relationship had drawn to a close."

As The Suit took a short step closer to him, Del said, "That's not what I heard."

"Is that so?"

Danger hooded Julianna's blue eyes and he felt The Suit's presence behind him, but he wouldn't be deterred. "Seems a little bird told me some information that lets me believe there is still a relationship to be had." She sat deathly still in the regal wooden chair and he licked anxiously. "A little bird," he explained, "told me that your son's wife has flown the coop."

"That is hardly news that concerns you." She glanced up at The Suit, a mocking smile curling up her lips. "And in the world of gossip," she said with a small laugh, "it's old news by now."

Del shook his head, clucking his tongue softly. "Won't be old news," he said nonchalantly, "when people find out that someone was drugging her."

Julianna had no visible reaction and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Perhaps his dopey sister was wrong. Maybe, just maybe Olivia was as crazy as he always suspected his sister of being.

"Drugging her?" Confusion wrinkled her face and she drummed her fingers on the table. "Why would anyone think that?"

He laughed loudly, a deep guffaw that could split an eardrum. "Come now," he insisted, holding his sides as his body shook with laughter. "We both know what was in that bag of goodies that I sold you." His chuckling died off as he leaned closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "LSD. Two cubes worth." Her mouth tightened and a cocky smugness bloomed in Del.

"You have more to lose than anyone if you spread that ludicrous story around Sunset Beach," she said quietly, folding her hands neatly in front of her.

"Is that so?" He shook his head. "I don't think so. Besides, a gesture of friendship from you would convince me that no one needs to know about our little transaction."

"A gesture of friendship," Julianna repeated with a snicker. "We aren't friends." She stood abruptly, bracing her hands on the edge of the table as she stared him down. "You can't prove anything. The only thing you can prove is that you sold an illegal drug to one of my employees." She glanced up at The Suit, nodding curtly. "I'll leave this to you."

As she left the dining room, The Suit's strong hands clamped down on Del's shoulders. The smugness from earlier was gone, replaced by cold fear. A bone chilling fear that was slowly oozing out of every pore in his body.

"Greed," The Suit whispered in Del's ear, "will get you nowhere." His voice rasped out, caught between the slurs and breaks of his European accent. Was that Del trembling or did he imagine it? "You should have taken her earlier advice on this matter."

He dropped his voice to a whisper, barely trying to mask its sinister nature. "My compatriots would repeat that to the traitors they captured during my country's civil war." He squeezed Del's shoulders, sure that he had his undivided attention. His knuckles clenched ice white as his fingers rippled the material of his shirt and the flesh of his body. "They knew how to make sure they learned their lesson. A steel pipe worked best."

The pungent odor of Del's anxiety stung his nostrils and he went in for the kill. "The soles of their feet were beaten repeatedly. The pain was so unbearable that the traitors couldn't even cry out after the first hour. It was just the sound of the steel against torn flesh and broken bone. Whereas before they begged to live, now they begged to die."

Del's back was ramrod straight and sweat trickled down the back of his neck. "Hey man, I was just-"

"You didn't sell anyone anything," The Suit interrupted. "No one gave Olivia Deschanel anything. You know _nothing_."

"Yeah, yeah," he agreed quickly, the iron bands around his shoulders loosening. "I don't know anything."

"Exactly. Keep it that way." He jerked Del out of the seat and turned him around. A dark circled stained his crotch and The Suit couldn't help but shake his head in disgust. "Get out of here," he growled, shoving Del in the direction of the door.

His feet were on autopilot, carrying Del out of the dining room. He stumbled through the foyer, his feet sliding on the freshly buffed marble. The air outside the house was a welcomed coolness and he inhaled sharply, trying to shake off the tension that still plagued him. And he couldn't help but think that it was rather smart of Olivia to leave. In fact, knowing about the group of crazies she lived with, he didn't blame her.


	48. The Wild Wonder of Knowing

_**NOTE: The title of this chapter was inspired by a line in Edith Wharton's Ethan Frome.**_

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 48: "The Wild Wonder of Knowing"

On cold mornings, your bed is like a vise. A band of warmth surrounds the legs and wraps up around your waist, a fuzzy layer of peace that sometimes can't be found anywhere else. If the curtains are open and luck is in the air, a panel of sunlight will shine through, adding another blanket of warmth. The pillows seem to give a bit more as you snuggle further into its welcoming embrace. However, you try to stay as still as you can because the mattress is perfectly indented with even more coziness. On cold morning like this, you wonder why you even have to get out of bed.

Olivia wrapped her arms around Gregory's pillows, hugging the softness. Her side of the bed was piled high with extra quilts that he managed to dig out the back of a spare closet for her. As far as she was concerned, there was no such thing as being too warm during the winter. He had thought that was rather funny.

_She folded her arms across her chest as the last quilt felt over her legs. He continued to chuckle as he climbed into the bed, turning on his side to face her. "You're amused that I'm cold?"_

_He shook his head, wrapping his arm around her waist beneath the mountain of blankets. "You're from England," he said, as if that would explain everything. "You aren't supposed to be cold. The California weather has made you wimpy."_

_She scoffed, letting him hug her close and his chest warm hers. "Wimpy?"_

"_A few New York winters and you'll be back up to par," he teased, squeezing her shoulders lightly. She giggled and closed her eyes as he added, "Nothing toughens you more than dealing with midtown traffic in a blizzard."_

Smiling tiredly, she opened her eyes a crack. The closet doors hung open forlornly, the faint flow from the overhead light spilling out. She raised her head slightly, listening closely but the rest of the apartment was as silent as a church mouse.

Perplexed, but not really worried, she returned her head to the pillow and pulled the sheets up to her neck. Hugging his pillow tighter to her chest, she realized just what a poor substitute it was for him. He had probably done this too, those long and lonely nights when they were apart providing little consolation for their empty arms. How many nights had they spent, hugging pillows to quell their achingly empty arms?

"No. I'm here now and that's what matters," she whispered aloud, snuggling deeper beneath the quilts and more onto his side of the bed. He made her promise: no more looking back to past regrets. Hadn't they even toasted that promise over cheesecake the other day?

She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and sighed contentedly. And she was here, wasn't she? Sleeping in his bed, theirs now, cuddling up against his pillow. Wearing the nightgown he bought for her when he took her shopping again yesterday afternoon. His face the last one she saw at night and the first one she saw in the morning.

"What are you smiling about?"

Looking up, she followed Gregory's voice to where he stood in the bedroom doorway, a paper bag in his hands.

"Where were you?" she asked.

"Jogging in Central Park." He kicked his running shoes into the corner and padded across the wood floor in his socks. Smirking at her as he opened the bag, the paper crinkling and a puff of steam escaping with it. "I didn't think you'd want to be woken up for that," he added, reaching into the bag for a package wrapped in wax paper.

She shook her head, sitting up and rolling her neck twice. "Mornings are for sleeping in, not jogging…at least for me they aren't." Kissing him softly as she sat down next to her, she shivered when his cold hand brushed her arm. He smelled cool and crisp, like the air outside. "Ugh darling, you're sweaty."

"I'll shower later. I brought breakfast back," he said, passing her one of the wrapped bundles. "Hot coffee," he explained as he pulled out two Styrofoam cups. He removed the plastic lid on hers with a grand flourish and passed it to her. She sipped the coffee gratefully and slumped against him, really not caring about the perspiration.

He balled up the empty bag and tossed it down to the ground. "You didn't tell what you were smiling about earlier," he reminded her as he pealed open the package from the deli.

"Curiosity killed the cat," she giggled as he bit into the bagel smothered in lox and cream cheese.

"Good. I'm allergic to cats and most other animals. Let's hope satisfaction doesn't bring it back."

"As you like it." She chewed her own bagel thoughtfully for moment before exclaiming, "This is delicious!"

He smiled over the top of his coffee cup and said, "Give it time but we'll make a real New Yorker out of you yet."

She laughed as she hung her head against his shoulder, her leg sneaking out from beneath the covers to drape between his legs. "I was thinking about you," she admitted and he looked over. "Earlier- when you came home." Her arm went around his neck, lightly fingering his damp hair. "About you and me…us."

"Oh really?"

"Mm hmm," she assured him with a happy sigh, nodding her head energetically. Her tongue darted out, licking up a dollop of cream cheese from the corner of her mouth. She grinned, matching the one on his face. "I love you," she said softly. "And these last few weeks have been the best of my life."

"Well, I do what I can." He squeezed her hand softly, marveling at the way her hand perfectly fit within his own. She was perfect.

She kissed his cheek, wrinkling her nose when she felt how cold he still was. "And I'm happy. Deliriously so," she added. "Are you?"

"Happy?" Her hand warmed his and he squeezed it gently. "Of course I am," he said sincerely. "I have you."

She turned to him and said softly after a long moment, "I'd like to call my father then. He doesn't know I've left AJ…and I want to tell him about us."

Without hesitation, Gregory reached for the phone, plopping it on the bed between their legs. "I can step out if you want privacy."

"Don't you dare," she huffed, linking her arm through the crook of his, as if that simple gesture could hold him in place.

He settled back against the headboard, leaving his coffee on the nightstand. "How do you know he hasn't already tried to get in touch with in Sunset Beach?"

Her answer was a lilting chuckle as she glanced up from the keypad. "My father is notoriously old fashioned. He detests the phone and never calls anyone." She cleared her throat, dropping her voice an octave to mimic her father. "Love, there's a beauty in a handwritten note that you just can't achieve with a phone call." She held the phone to her ear and explained, "It's the artist in him."

He nodded and finished his bagel, silence falling between them as she finished tapping out the long number. She glanced over at the clock, checking the time and quickly calculating the time change.

"It's afternoon in Dorset," she said, more for Gregory's benefit than her's. "He's probably painting and it'll take forever for him to get to the phone." She turned to Gregory, the phone balanced between her cheek and shoulder. "Did I ever tell you that he asked me about you?" She continued on, effectively silencing any response he may have had. "It was just after the _Crystal Ball_. I could never fool him, but…oh did I try. He saw us dancing at the ball and he just knew."

"Why didn't you tell him then?"

She bit her lip, listening to the tilling ring as she waited for her father to answer. "It seems so ridiculous now, especially considering how happy we are and how perfect everything is. But- I was afraid of disappointing him. That-" she broke off and inhaled sharply, "when he looked at me, knowing about you and I, that it would bring up bad memories for him- of my mother. And I know now," she continued quickly, "that it wasn't very logical to think that and that the situations were completely different, but I-"

"Liv, your father's opinion matters." He cupped her face, kissing her lips softly. "You love him and he's important to you. What he thinks should always matter." He paused, brushing his thumb over the curve of her lips before he said, "I don't know your father- I only met him the once- but I'm sure that there is nothing you could do that would disappoint him."

His words touched her, as the softness of her smile and the red coloring her cheeks attested. "If I knew then-," she trailed off.

"Famous last words." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and glanced out the large window. A trio of pigeons fluttered past, ugly blue-gray birds that seemed to haunt the metropolis, even during the winter when other birds flew south. Snowy gusts escaped them today and the morning was crisp, with a blue sky overhead and complimented by bright sunshine. "I've done just the opposite though."

"Opposite?"

"Of you. I've always done what I wanted, gotten what and whom," he explained, turning away from the window to gaze into her eyes, "I wanted. And to hell with what my father thought."

"You've always changed the subject whenever I bring up your parents. Until you voluntarily mentioned your mother the other day, I was starting to think that you were estranged from them." She leaned back into Gregory's arms, angling the still idling phone slightly away from her ear as she looked up. "But that sort of situation seemed far too dramatic for you to even be a part of."

He rested his head against the headboard, quietly appreciating how comfortable he felt in the intimate setting, opening up to her. "We're close, even amiable…most of the time." He cracked a wry smile as he sought for a way that would adequately describe his family. "I was the youngest, the afterthought. My brothers are much older and they were in Exeter at boarding school by the time I was four. A tradition among the Richards men," he explained with a snort.

"_Boarding_ school?"

He struggled to hold back his laughter. The look of horror on Olivia's face was nearly priceless, so aghast was she at the notion of a young Gregory being sent away for schooling. "It really wasn't that bad," he assured her.

She frowned warily, her eyes betraying the suspicion she felt. "And your parents?"

Gregory's shoulders rose and his head slid across the headboard until it lay against hers. "They're parents," he stated, as if that would explain everything. "My mother was sick often when I was young. Something about my birth being hard on her. My earliest memories of her are seeing her lying in bed, my father and a doctor hovering over her and my nanny telling me to play quietly. She really didn't recover fully until I was nearly six." He stopped talking abruptly, gazing thoughtfully into the distance.

After several moments of silence, she cautiously suggested, "That must have been difficult for you."

He glanced back over to her. "I was alright. I didn't want for anything," he said quickly. "But I think she's always been haunted by guilt that I somehow missed out on something while she was bedridden. I was used to being by myself as a child and it carried over into adulthood. She blames herself for that." He chuckled and kissed of Olivia's forehead. "That's why she's been harping on me to settle down. You'll be a godsend for her."

The corners of Olivia's lips curled up in amusement. "Well it's good to know I've already got something in my favor." She held the phone to her ear, rolling her eyes slightly as it continued to ring.

"How long do you usually wait?"

"However long it takes for him to pick up. Poppy doesn't just put the paintbrush down when the phone rings, if he even hears it. He's in another world when he's in the middle of a painting." She glanced at Gregory out of the corner of her eye and declared softly, "That just leaves your father."

He sighed, shifting in the bed to face her fully. "Like I said before, it's all an opposite. From what you've said about your father, he is everything that mine isn't." He paused for a moment before plunging forward with his last thought. "Maxwell Richards won't be winning any father-of-the-year awards any time soon. He expects perfection and for his sons to follow his every command. He's dedicated to work and distant from his sons."

Her hand cupped his cheek, warmth that he covered with his own as he brought it to his lips. He placed a soft kiss on her knuckles and sighed. "Which is ironic because he worships the ground my mother walks on and he is," he admitted with some reluctance, "a good husband to her. Loving my mother is easy for him. His sons are another matter entirely." He took in her pained expression and smiled sheepishly. "And you thought you had it bad telling your father about us."

The silence came quickly, only punctuated by the faint ringing from the earpiece. Olivia opened and closed her mouth several times, any words failing to express the true extent of her regret. Regret for Maxwell, not to mention a measure of anger, for failing to recognize how much goodness lay in his son. However, even greater was her regret for Gregory, who was unfortunate enough not to have as good a father as she did.

"How you can joke about this…" she trailed off incredulously. She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed, "It seems that neither of us completely lucked out in the parent area."

"One out of two for each of us isn't bad," he agreed. He reached around, urging her chin up with his finger. "We turned out ok."

"For the most part," she teased. She lowered the phone and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "This is the part where people like us vow to each other that their children will have it different."

His boyish grin warmed her heart, spreading slowly throughout her chest and stomach. She smiled impishly as he said, "That seems almost cliché."

"Isn't a cliché usually true?" His eyebrow arched skeptically and she shook her head knowingly. "Love conquers all."

"Eventually," he deadpanned, meriting a poke in the ribs from Olivia. "I suppose I deserved that."

"You supposed correctly."

He reached out, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Our children will never spend one minute doubting that we love and treasure them." His hand fell to her shoulder, the back of his fingers stroking the side of her neck. Bringing them back to her earlier suggestion, he promised softly, "Our children will have it different."

"Some day," she whispered as he drew her face closer to his own, their lips brushing together softly.

"_Sorry for keeping you waiting love_."

Olivia pulled back quickly as her father's voice squawked out of the earpiece. "It's alright Poppy," she assured him, smiling up at Gregory as she pressed the phone closer to her ear. "How did you know it was me?"

Her father's rolling laughter brought back all the comfort of her childhood. Lazy Sunday afternoons watching him paint in his studio until he got the sunlight falling on the creek near their home just right. Bach in the background, the soft music providing the perfect ambiance for the magic that he created on a canvas with just a few flicks of his wrist and carefully selected color.

"Who else would stay on the line this long?"

She chuckled, threading her fingers through Gregory's. "That's true. I'm nothing if not persistent."

"And we've got your Gran to thank for that, don't we?"

Sliding in between Gregory's legs, she leaned back against his chest and smiled as he wrapped both arms around her and rested his chin on her head. "I suppose so." She curled deeper into his embrace and took a deep breath. "Poppy, there's a reason that I called today."

Thomas paused for a moment and the line crackled with static. "I see," he began slowly.

"I'm fine," she was quick to assure him. "In fact, I'm better- _much better_- than fine." A smile spread across her face and she added, "I'm happier than I've ever been. I finally started to live again."

"And you weren't before?" he asked diplomatically.

"No. No, I wasn't. But I think you had suspected as much during your last visit." After a brief pause and another deep breath, she continued, "Poppy, I've left AJ."

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard nothing but silence. Gregory's arms around her waist tightened supportively and she covered his hand with her free one.

"And you say you're alright?"

Her tongue was bone dry as she licked her lips anxiously. "Yes Poppy. I promise you that I've never been better. I wasn't happy with my marriage and I hadn't been in a long while. He- I wasn't meant to be with him. My heart wasn't in it. It never was."

Relief flooded through her as she heard his smile through the phone. "And where is it now?"

"In New York, with Gregory Richards. I love him Poppy." Her father's hushed chuckle grew steadily louder and she giggled softly as she squeezed Gregory's hand. "What?" she asked.

Thomas managed to contain his chuckling long enough to say, "You may love him, but I knew there was a reason that I liked him more than AJ after the first meeting."

Laughter flew out of Olivia's mouth and she held the phone up so that Gregory could hear the twin amusement coming out of the handset. She pushed off his chest and turned around, wiping a tear of laughter out of her eye. "Isn't that just a tad self serving?"

"Perhaps," Thomas laughed, "but at least Gregory and I could hold a conversation." He cleared his throat seriously as the laughter died in his throat. "Love, you don't know how good it is to hear you laugh like this again."

"Well Poppy," she said as she met Gregory's eyes, "I plan on doing it a lot more. Because I am in love with life again…and it's because I'm in love with Gregory." She laughed again as Gregory's lips curled up in a smirk and she repeated with a wink, "I'm in love with Gregory."


	49. The Year of the Snake

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 49: "The Year of the Snake"

Gladys rolled her eyes as the phone began again to shriek loudly. Putting her hand lightly on the phone, she paused before picking up and saying brightly, "Gregory Richards's office."

Her fingernails clicked lightly on the ink blotter beneath her elbow, her face melting into an apology as she said, "No, I'm sorry, but Mr. Richards is out of the office today as well."

A curl of steam rose from the mug next to the phone and she eyed it longingly as she continued to offer apologies into the phone. "I assure you that all of your messages have been sent to him. Yes, I understand. And the moment he comes back, I'll see to it that yours will be the first call he returns." With another caller pacified for today, she smiled as she sipped the rich coffee, nodding at the words crackling through the lines. "You as well. Have a pleasant day, Mr. Lewis."

The handset clattered back to the base as she reached for the small notepad, scratching yet another name to the list of people she promised would be called back first. She eyed the closed mahogany door to her right and sat back in her chair, absentmindedly gnawing on the cap of her pen. Had it even been opened in all this time?

A shadow in the open doorway got her attention and she stood up, smoothing her skirt as she said, "Good morning, Mr. Richards."

Maxwell Richards nodded curtly in her direction before glancing back at the closed office door across from him. "He's not in?"

She shook her head, the beads of her necklace knocking together. As her lips parted to begin speaking, he sighed angrily and turned away.

"Have you spoken with him?" she heard him ask someone in the hallway.

Gladys craned her neck and recognized the familiar profile of yet another Richards's male. She straightened her posture as Bill stepped into the office, his hands casually tucked in his pockets. She bit back a smile as he flashed a smirk in her direction, before turning back to his father.

Bill shrugged coyly, his tall frame leaning against the leather armchair. "I stopped keeping tabs on Gregory a long time ago, _Pop_." A smile dripping with faux innocence caused the corners of his mouth to curl as he propped his feet on the coffee table. "Maybe," he thought aloud, the tone of his voice suggesting wide eyed wonder, "we're about to meet a whole new Gregory." He met the secretary's laughing eyes and asked, "Wouldn't that be something, Gladys?"

The elder Richards, acting as if he hadn't heard his son, pointed an accusatory finger at the lone woman in the room and snapped, "If he checks in, put him through to my office. I'd like to have a word with him."

"Boy, that sounds ominous," Bill muttered dryly after his father left the room. Tapping a carton of cigarettes in his palm, he shook one out and held it to his lips.

Gladys reached across her desk and tossed a small ashtray in his lap. "You know he hates it when you call him 'Pop'."

"I know. Isn't it great the way his eyebrow twitches when he hears it?"

She shook her head as he laughed to himself, the lighter clicking and pale orange light flickering from beneath his cupped hand. "Those will kill you, you know."

"So will a car accident on the L.I.E."

"So you keep telling me." She perched herself on the corner of her desk and asked, "Have you heard from him?"

Bill stood, a cloud of smoke surrounding him as he cocked his head at the closed door and said, "He said he was taking a few days off."

"Gregory Richards doesn't take days off." She shook her head and picked up her mug, sipping gingerly out of it as she continued, "A few days isn't two and a half weeks."

His boyish grin in response gave her pause. It was the grin of someone who knew more than what they were saying. "Bill, I was your father's secretary for years before I came to Gregory's office. You should know by now that I can-"

"Gladys, it's not that." He turned around to stab out the cigarette. "Trust me, he's fine. _More_ than fine," he chuckled.

"And when you put it like that," Gregory sighed from the doorway, " I'm sure she doesn't believe a word of it." He smiled at his secretary as he asked, "Right Gladys?"

"Not a word," she assured him.

Gregory nodded at his brother and gestured to his office. "I'll get the rest of my messages later." He took a step toward the door but turned around quickly and said, "Reschedule my meeting at noon with Victor Lewis. I've got other plans and if Olivia calls, put her through immediately."

"Olivia?"

Bill wrapped his arm around his younger brother's shoulders and explained proudly, "The reason he's been detained these last few weeks."

The arched eyebrow and amused look on her face said it all and she returned to her desk as Gregory and Bill stepped into his office. "That explains it," she whispered to herself, as she picked up her phone to cancel the Lewis meeting.

"So…" Bill trailed off as he watched his brother drop his briefcase onto the wide window ledge and hang his suit coat off the back of leather chair.

"So?" Gregory repeated coolly as he took a seat behind his desk.

"Enjoy your impromptu- would we even call it a vacation?"

Gregory shook his head at the question, ignoring the way his brother's eyes suggestively danced in their sockets. "Vacation entails leaving the city, which I did not."

"So I guess that means I don't need to ask how things went." The laughter surprised Bill and he couldn't help but notice the changes in his younger brother. A new spark of life danced in his eyes, replacing the empty look that had lived there for the past few months.

"Better than ever." Gregory reached around behind him, popping the locks on the briefcase before turning back around to where his brother sat. "What?" he asked, taking in the sudden quiet.

Bill's shoulders rose slightly as he explained softly, "It's good to see you happy."

"I got what I wanted. We both did."

Silence settled in the office as Gregory sat back in his chair, staring at the small pocket watch that ticked softly from its wooden holder in the corner of his desk. The delicate needle moved slowly, ticking past the black Roman numerals slowly as if it didn't have a care in the world. _A framed photo of Olivia would be a nice replacement for the spot_, he decided.

"Have you seen Himself yet?"

He shook his head. "No, but I imagine he'll be over once he hears I'm in the building."

"You missed him by minutes this morning." Bill chuckled to himself and added, "He's going to love hearing about you postponing the Lewis meeting for a date with your girlfriend."

Gregory's shrug sufficiently said what he thought about that, though he said, "He'll just have to deal with it."

"I'll reserve my ringside seats for the show now then."

"You do that." He stood up, removing a thick stack of papers from his briefcase and dropping them on the desk unceremoniously. "By the way, we're having lunch in Chinatown. You should come. You can meet Olivia."

"You sure you want me to?" Bill teased.

With a mock sigh of resignation, Gregory said, "She'll have to sooner or later. Besides, if you don't scare her away, I know she'll survive meeting the rest of the family."

"The family," he scoffed as he stood to leave. "You make us sound like the Mafia."

"We don't live in New Jersey."

* * *

New York may have been the place that never sleeps, but it was known to have occasional lulls. Moments in areas of the city when the congestion died down and the constant background noise faded to a dull roar. Mulberry Street was _not_ one of those places, even in the dead of winter. 

The rolling chatter of Chinese dialects came together in a cacophony that was only second to the festive music that echoed for a brief moment when a door from one of the many buildings opened. Massive lines of colorful lanterns strung across the street, fixed from end to end on lampposts and buildings. Clumps of confetti and pieces of streamers huddled in the gutters, remnants of the recent New Year's celebrations. The cold weather flattered the flavorful scents, allowing them to hang temptingly in the air.

Olivia pushed the strap of her purse high on her shoulder and shifted the collection of shopping bags from one hand to the other as she stepped into the restaurant. She pushed aside the beads hanging in the doorway and scanned the room for Gregory.

Dim light shone from red and gold lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The restaurant wasn't crowded and she spotted him instantly, sitting at a table near the back with a man who couldn't be anyone but one of his brothers.

As she made her way through the maze of tables with all of her shopping bags, she gushed, "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Hours," Gregory teased as he stood up, taking her bags from her and kissing her lips softly in one fluid movement.

"Liar," she whispered, her cold finger brushing against the warm flesh of his chin. As he moved behind her to help her out of her coat, she smiled at the man standing quietly across the table. "How do you do?" she asked, holding out her hand. "Olivia Blake."

"Bill Richards," he said, taking her hand for a long moment. "Welcome to New York."

"Thank you," she said as Gregory guided her into a chair and took the seat next to her. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"You as well." He glanced at Gregory, his hand covering Olivia's and smiled behind his napkin.

A waiter strolled out from the kitchen and smiled eagerly at the trio seated around the small square table. "Tea for three?"

As Bill proceeded to order for the table, Gregory leaned over and whispered in Olivia's ear, "I hope you don't mind that Bill joined us."

She smiled and cupped his cheek lightly. "Of course not." She nodded at the tea order and squeezed Gregory's hand softly after the waiter left.

A brief silence graced the table while the three read over the menus left on the table. "1977 is the year of the snake," Olivia read from the menu insert. "Anyone born under it's sign are 'deep thinkers and possess great wisdom'."

" 'Throughout the year, people are more determined to accomplish their goals and refuse to accept failure'," Bill read. He held up the small glass of ice water and said, "Hear, hear to people not giving up."

Olivia smiled at the poignant toast and clinked her glass against Gregory's. "To the year of the snake."


	50. Moments

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 50: "Moments"

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed, its strong clangs echoing in the silence of the apartment. Gregory glanced pointedly at the large gold watch on his wrist and sighed. He picked up a velvet-covered box and turned to the closed bedroom door.

"Liv," he called, rapping on the door twice, "we're going to be late."

"Just another minute!" was the reply, the same one that he'd been getting for the past twenty minutes.

"Promise?"

The door opened slightly and Olivia poked her head out, smiling apologetically. "I promise."

Before he had the chance to coax her out, she disappeared back into the bedroom and closed door behind her. He turned away, walking back down the hallway to the front of the apartment.

The living room was quiet and bathed in warm light from the lamp on the corner table. He placed the velvet box on the coffee table and reached for one of the bottles in the liquor chest. The scotch splashed into the glass and he swallowed a mouthful quickly.

With the glass still in hand, he moved to the window. Darkness had fallen hours ago, capturing the city in her nocturnal embrace. Thousands of dots of light glowed across the city, dancing in the black like beacons for the lost.

As he continued to sip the scotch, he heard the bedroom door open and the soft click of Olivia's heels on the hardwood floor. He turned around as she stepped into the living room.

"Well?" she asked. "What do you think?" A delighted smile danced on her face as she turned around once, affording him the chance to have a complete look at her. "I just fell in love with the color."

He left the glass by the window and crossed to her. "You're exquisite," he said softly, as he took her hands.

"Really?"

"Well," he hedged as he stepped back and looked her over once more, feigning a critical eye.

"Well what?" She frowned as she glanced down at the gown with its gathered bodice and draped skirt of mauve colored silk gossamer.

"You're missing something." He picked up the box of black velvet from the table and held it out to her. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Gregory," she whispered as her face lit up and she placed her hand lightly on the surface of the closed offering. "I told you I didn't need anything."

He shrugged and inched the box closer to her. "Indulge me."

"Indulge you by letting you spoil me," she chuckled as she opened the lid slowly, sparkling light glittering across her face as she did. "Oh darling," she sighed. "It's gorgeous."

Leaving the box in her hands, he gently removed the necklace and moved behind her to fasten it around her neck. "The moment I saw it," he whispered in her ear as he locked the clasp, "I knew it had to be yours."

She turned around, dropping the empty box to the sofa and skimming the cool surface of the diamonds with her fingers. "I love it. Thank you."

He grasped her bare arms, rubbing them gently as he stared into her face. The color of her evening gown offset her eyes, making them deeper and more mystical. "I want to give you a lifetime of perfection. I want to give you the world."

Her hands cupped his face as she kissed his mouth softly. "I don't need the world," she whispered to his lips. "I just need you. As for perfection," she continued, "I don't want a lifetime of it." She looked up at him as his arms went around her back. "I'd rather have moments. A moment of happiness, a moment of perfection, a moment of sadness. That's what we remember of our life: moments."

His finger traced the double strand of diamonds lying across her chest. "You're wiser than you let on, Ms. Blake."

She smiled mysteriously as she linked hands with him, dancing in a slow circle to music that only they could hear. "I can't go and reveal all my secrets, now can I?"

He shrugged, kissing the tips of her fingers as they continued to sway together. "I'm not complaining. But," he allowed as he noticed the time, "I have a feeling _you_ will if we're late to the opera."

"Oh!" she exclaimed as she jumped back from him. "I nearly forgot!"

Gregory picked up the matching wrap and settled it around her shoulders. He took her hand to lead her to the door and was surprised when she resisted and held him back.

"I love you," she whispered before placing a quick kiss on his lips.

"And I love you." He smiled and squeezed her hand, not failing again to note the absence of her wedding rings.

"So why didn't Bill want the opera tickets?" Olivia asked as he locked the front door and led her down the hall to the elevator.

The elevator rang as he pressed the call button. "He and Madeline decided to go to the house in Southampton. He thought we could use them."

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder as he hugged her close. "Lucky us."

* * *

The usher held the thick maroon curtain to the side and nodded as Gregory and Olivia stepped into the private box. "I'll return with champagne," he said before the curtain fell closed. 

Olivia let the wrap fall from her shoulders and set it on the back of the antique chair. Chandeliers resembling starbursts hung down, enough light to bring out the shadows from the draped curtain that hung over the stage and the gold inlay of the ceiling. The sounds of the orchestra warming up sent a tingle down her spine and she shivered.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he rested his hands on her shoulders. "I told you that you'd be cold wearing a sleeveless gown."

She sent him a reassuring smile as she turned around. "I'm fine. It's this," she explained softly, gesturing to everything that surrounded to them. "You, the opera…This is one of those moments that I'll remember forever."

He cupped her face and drew her closer, sighing against the sweetness of her mouth. The sounds of the orchestra and murmur of the audience faded to the wayside as her lips parted. Her hands pressed against the lapel of his tuxedo as his thumbs brushed her ear lobes.

The sound of a polite cough interrupted them and Olivia chuckled lightly as she broke away. She ran her thumb across his lips, wiping away the smudge of lipstick that rubbed off her.

Gregory turned, expecting to see the usher with their flutes of champagne. Who he found instead left him in a moment of silence. "Mother? What are you doing here?"

Amusement rippled across Eleanor's face as she stepped closer and accepted the peck he placed on her cheek. "I was going to ask you the same thing. I was expecting your brother and Madeline." She looked over his shoulder and smiled at the young woman standing behind her son. "I can see that isn't the case."

He turned back to Olivia, holding out his hand to her. "Mother, this is Olivia Blake." He wrapped his arm around Olivia's waist and said, "Liv, this is my mother, Eleanor."

Eleanor took Olivia's hand and smiled pleasantly, noting the use of the familiar pet name. "A pleasure to meet you, Olivia."

"It's so nice to _finally_ meet you," Olivia said warmly. "Bill didn't mention we'd be joining you, or did he?" she asked as she turned to Gregory.

"No, he didn't," Gregory confirmed as he reminded himself to give his brother a large thank you for omitting that one piece of information.

"Well, the evening is ours to enjoy." Eleanor left her beaded purse on the chair as the usher came in with a tray of champagne. "Your father will be along shortly. He got caught up in conversation." She nodded as she plucked a flute from the tray and looked at the young couple expectantly. "I must know how the two of you met."

Olivia smiled over the rim of her glass and turned to Gregory, handing the reins of explanation to him. "At a cocktail party," he explained, "in California about a year ago."

"A year!" Eleanor exclaimed as she choked on her champagne. "Gregory, shame on you for not mentioning this lovely girl before," she reprimanded playfully.

"I was living in California until recently," Olivia interrupted quickly, cutting off the explanation of defense Gregory was about to launch.

"And now you're living in New York?"

"Yes." Olivia hesitated noticeably and glanced at Gregory out the corner of her eye.

He swallowed his champagne and answered her unspoken question by continuing, "We're living together, Mother."

Eleanor smiled broadly, one eyebrow arched in an act of one that was pleasantly surprised. "Well then, I imagine it will be fairly easy for the two of you to come out to the house this weekend for dinner."

"Oh, we'd love to," Olivia answered for them, ignoring the look of incredulous shock on Gregory's face.

"_We'd love to_?" Gregory whispered as his mother turned to the doorway as the curtain was pushed aside. "Do you know what you've just gotten us into?"

Olivia took a sip of her champagne and smiled sweetly as she covered his hand on the railing. "Darling, don't be silly," she insisted as she stroked the back of his hand with her finger. "It's just dinner. You make it sound like we're being sent to our executions."

"Executions?" Maxwell asked as he followed his wife over to them.

"In the opera, Father," Gregory covered as he shook his father's hand. "_Turandot_ has quite a few of them."

"Maxwell, this is Olivia Blake," Eleanor explained. As they exchanged greetings, she added, "She and Gregory will be coming out to dinner this weekend."

"Well, good," Maxwell said as the houselights flashed on and off several times.

"Gregory, I'll call you later in the week with the details. Though," Eleanor said, smiling knowingly at Olivia as Maxwell held out her seat, "I suppose I'll need to go through Olivia in order to ensure you'll actually be there."

"That'll be fine," Olivia said, turning a pair of laughing eyes up to Gregory.

As the orchestra launched into the overture, Maxwell eyed the back of his son's head and leaned over to Eleanor. "Is it serious?"

"I would say so," she whispered back, resting her hand on his knee as the curtain raised slowly, bright white light filling the darkened theater. "He's never brought a girl to the house before."

"About damn time too," he muttered. He glanced at his son's companion for a long moment before asking, "What do we know about her? What does her family do?"

"Don't do this, Maxwell," Eleanor said sharply. She dropped her voice and murmured, "I won't let you turn this into something ugly. I've never seen anyone make Gregory this happy."

The look of warning in her eyes wasn't lost on him and he nodded shortly. "Fine, Eleanor." He looked back at Olivia before asking, "Have we met her before? She looks familiar."

Eleanor shrugged innocently, tucking a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. "I thought so too," she said benignly. "I believe we were at a wedding reception together."

He nodded, content with that answer and focused his attention on the stage. She did as well, confident it was for the best that the issue end there for now. She too had felt a chord of familiarity upon meeting Olivia, though she had done her husband one better.

It _was_ at a wedding reception that they had first met Olivia. They had met her for a brief moment to offer their congratulations.

She had been the bride.


	51. A Walk at Twilight

(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 51: "A Walk at Twilight"

A slight gust ripped through Central Park, howling through the barren tree branches and over the short hills covered with a layer of snow. Fine flurries fell silently from the sky, trimming the edges of the dark green pine boughs with powder white. Olivia shivered and retreated into the warmth of her coat, pulling the thick fur collar up high around her neck.

Gregory glanced over at her and broke into a grin. "You're the one who wanted to take a walk," he reminded her as he placed a kiss on her nose, the only part of her body other than her eyes that was visible in between the collar of her coat and her fuzzy hat.

"I'm fine with walking," she insisted as she wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning her head on his shoulder as she walked in step with him.

"I still can't believe we're doing this," he mumbled as they followed the path further into the park. Winter's sun had set, falling behind the skyscrapers to the west. Darkness was encroaching from the east, midnight blue that bled into the setting sky and heralded a smattering of twinkling stars. The tall buildings were black rectangles against the dark blue sky, sporadic patches of gold light glowing from where the windows were.

She glanced over at him, elbowing his side playfully. "Don't say it like that. 'I can't believe we're doing this'," she imitated with a slight huff. "It's romantic, darling…a walk at twilight."

He stopped in the middle of the graveled path and turned to her, a spark of dare flashing in his brown eyes. He gathered her in his arms, bending down and dipping her low to the ground. A cascade of dark hair escaped from beneath the ivory hat as her head fell back.

Her leg curled around his calf as the snow swirled around them, dancing on the light breeze. He smiled as her arm hooked around his neck and he lowered his face to hers. His lips pressed against hers, sending a pulse that rippled through her body.

The scarf around his neck fluttered to the side as he hugged her closer, lost in the promise of her lips. Once cold flesh bloomed warm, born on the spot where they touched. She smiled against him as he pulled back ever so slightly.

"_That_ was romantic," he whispered breathlessly as he stood slowly, his arms still around her.

She looked up at him, the cold coloring his nose and cheeks a rosy red. Flurries of snow nestled on his head, offset by the dark color of his hair. Her arms hung around his neck lazily as she giggled and said, "You hide it well, but you're a romantic at heart."

"Only since I've met you," he corrected softly as he brushed a snowflake off her cheek.

Smiling impishly, she broke away and tugged on his arm. "Come on," she urged playfully.

"Where?" he asked. "You don't even know where you're going."

She rolled her eyes and scooped a handful of snow from where it collected on a nearby bench. "I've got British history on my side. Sir Francis Drake, John Cabot, and Henry Hudson say I can find my way," she said as she packed the snow into a ball with her hands. "Besides darling, it's a park. How could we get lost?"

The snowball cut off his response when it hit him square in the chest with a resounding smack. He looked down at the dusting of white on his tan coat and started to chuckle. Wiping the snow off himself with slow and deliberate strokes, he raised his eyes to Olivia and was taken aback when another snowball exploded in his face.

Hysterical laughter sliced through the quiet, so removed were they from the sounds of traffic from the surrounding streets. Olivia pressed her gloved hand to her mouth to muffle her amusement as his tongue darted out to lick the snow from his lips.

Scraping the snow from his face, he blinked several times and asked, "Thought that was funny did you?" As she nodded enthusiastically, he reached over for a handful of snow from the branch of a tall evergreen. Throwing it casually in the air as he took a step closer and asked, "How funny?"

Her eyebrow arched and she propped her hands on her hips. "_Funny_." She shrieked loudly when the ball of powder burst across her face. "Oh God," she howled in between shocked laughter as she furiously scrubbed the white flakes from her face. "Are you insane!"

Chuckling heartily, he pulled off his gloves and shoved them in his pocket as he bridged the short distance between them. Her skin glowed red from its contact with the cold snow and he ran his hands together fervently before placing them on her cheeks. "Not insane…I'm just getting even."

She rubbed a handful of snow in his face, stunning him long enough to pull away and take off down the lane. Shadows whispered from the sidelines, rising up from the trees and bushes. He took chase and jogged after her, dodging when she managed to send several snowballs his way. Her laughter echoed in the cold, carrying him down the hill quicker than his feet could ever dream of doing. The snow crunched beneath him, billows of fog crystallizing in the air for a brief moment as he breathed out.

He advanced on her, no more than a step behind when she spun around, a big smile on her face as he grabbed her and pulled her down to the ground with him. They sank into the snow, disturbing the unblemished coverage as they wrestled playfully. The cold of the snow stung his bare hands as he trapped her beneath him, pinning her wrists on either side of her head.

"Gotcha," he whispered.

"I let you win," she whispered back, breathing heavily against the chilling shudders in her chest.

Gregory laughed, kissing her nose as he released her wrists. "I'll take you any way I can get you." He took her hand, capturing her gloved finger in his mouth and easing it off with his teeth. Her hand trembled when the cold hit it and she watched quietly as he massaged her bare ring finger. "Do you know much I love the sight of this?" he asked as he placed a kiss on her knuckle.

"That old finger? I've had it for years," she teased, causing him to roll his eyes. She reached up to brush an unruly lock of hair from his forehead. "It's rather plain now, without anything on it."

"It won't be without a ring forever."

"Is that a proposal?" she asked quietly after a moment. He chuckled and his eyes flickered away from hers. A soft smile graced her lips as she gazed up at him. "Shouldn't you be on bended knee?"

His curled fingers grazed her cheek, barely registering the clump of snow that slipped down the sleeve of his coat. "Nothing about our relationship has been traditional. Why should the proposal?"

She giggled and wriggled deeper beneath him, following him wholeheartedly down the path he was leading them. He slid off, stretching out along the length of her as he drew her close. Her legs brushed against his as she nestled against him. Her long hair fanned out beneath her head, a web for the curtain of white that fell from the heavens. Clouds of their breath puffed and hung in the crisp air, the scent of wood smoke perfuming the cold.

"I love you," he said simply. He paused for a moment, watching the way the smile stretched across her face. "You don't want perfection, but there will never be a single moment that we won't cherish," he continued, his hush seemingly louder in the quiet emptiness. "You've become this wonderful presence in my life that I can't imagine not having. I can't imagine a day without you."

Her smiled belied the tears she blinked away from her eyes, as his calm manner took away from the rock of emotion in his throat. "I want it all. I want you…forever. I- I can't remember when there was a time that I didn't want you."

The breath caught in her throat as she sobbed, his cold fingers cupping her chin. "You've brought out the best in me and I promise you: there will never be a day when you aren't reminded how much I love you. Together, you and I," he whispered hoarsely as his voice cracked, "we're unstoppable."

Soft curls sprang up from where the snow soaked her hair. He tucked a wavy lock behind her ear and whispered, "Liv, will you-"

"Yes," she sobbed breathlessly as she grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled him closer. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" she exclaimed in between marking his lips, chin, and neck with kisses.

He wrapped his arms around her and rolled over onto his back, staring up at her. Her hat had fallen off at some point, allowing her hair to fall in waves over her shoulders and hang in her face. The snow enveloped her, a light against the darkness of the night. _His_ light.

He laughed as she continued to cover his face with her lips. "Are you sure?" he teased.

She leaned up, tilting his chin up with her fingers. "I've never been surer of anything in my life," she promised him before brushing her lips against his.

He cupped her face, threading his fingers through her hair as their lips did the rest. The snow bore silent witness, capturing the couple in a vault of white silence and protecting them from the world. She grunted and pulled away, covering her lips with her hand.

"Liv?" he asked, sitting up quickly.

"I need a divorce."

Gregory exhaled deeply, drawing his knees up and resting his arms on top. "I suppose you would." He glanced over at her, lost in thought and cutting daggers in the corner of her lip as she nibbled on it. "Any other man would be concerned that his fiancée was thinking of another man right after he proposed."

She glanced up sharply, found the smirk in his eyes, and swat a handful of snow in his direction. "You aren't like other men."

He grabbed her ankle, pulling her to him and walking his fingers up her calf. "I know…I'm Gregory."

"Be serious," she pled, failing to stop her lips from curling up in an amused smile.

"I am," he insisted, pushing himself up from the frigid ground and extending his hand to help her up. "We'll get you a lawyer," he said, throwing his arm around her shoulders as they trudged through the snowdrift. "We'll file the paperwork and in a few months, you'll be a free woman." He stopped when she bent down, plucking her hat from where it lay forlornly on the path.

"You make it sound so easy," she said with a hint of jealousy as she tugged the hat of wool and fur back atop her head.

"Why do you think it won't be?"

"He- We ended on bad terms," she sighed, unconsciously flexing the wrist that no longer required bandaging. "He was furious." She stopped abruptly and turned to Gregory. "You've known AJ your entire life. What would happen if he didn't get something he wanted?"

Without even hesitating, he answered, "He would cry to his mother."

Olivia nodded, letting him take her hand and lead her on. "Julianna can't stand me. She never could. She wore _black_ to the wedding!" she sputtered, causing Gregory to chuckle. "What?"

He glanced over, swallowing his amusement as he asked, "That didn't tell you anything?" When she didn't respond, he squeezed her shoulders and leaned over to whisper in her ear, "If she hates you as much as you say, don't you think then that she's thrilled to be rid of you?"

Her hair whipped around as her head jerked. Her near violet eyes flashed, her lips pursed so tightly they nearly disappeared. "Yes," she spit out, "but there's one thing that thrills her even more."

"What's that?"

"Revenge." She sighed, rubbing her forehead tiredly in a futile attempt to combat the growing headache that sprang up whenever she thought of California. California, the new code word for everything relating to her former life there as Mrs. Armando Deschanel, Jr. "For wronging him."

"Liv, you didn't," he insisted. "You know that."

She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes against the static in her head. "I do…but she doesn't."


	52. 25

(See first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 52: "25"

"It's not going to open itself, you know."

The younger man looked up, startled at the interruption. "I beg your pardon?"

The thin sheets of the newspaper rustled as The Suit folded the section over and set it on the table. He settled back comfortably in the chair and gestured at the box in front of AJ with his chin. "Whatever she sent you isn't going away."

AJ sighed and hung his face in his hands, staring down at the package. "No, I suppose not."

It was a small box, no more than five-by-five. A New York postmark was stamped on the brown paper, a telltale sign as to who sent it. But if that were not enough, the handwriting would've been. The elegant script inked into the paper was as familiar to him as his own was.

"You know what it is, don't you?"

AJ shrugged, poking the box with his index finger as if gauging its level of danger. "I've got a few ideas," he admitted quietly.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, the hem of his bathrobe shifting with the ocean breeze. "If," he hedged, "I don't open it, it's not true." He glanced up at The Suit, his hazel eyes cloaked with discomfort as he waited for the condemnation he expected to hear. When nothing was said, he sighed and muttered, "I'm sure you think that's ridiculous."

The Suit's blacker than coal eyes flickered, the only indication he gave that he agreed with his lover's son. However, he was nothing if not a master of deceit. He leaned in and forced his lips up, the only substitute for a smile that he could muster. "My friend," he whispered, clasping AJ's shoulder paternally, "that is the nature of the woman. To ridicule us. To torment us with their…_wiles_. They have done it for centuries."

His grip slowly tightened around the younger man's shoulder, the robe's material bunching beneath his fingers. "Daughters of Helen," he continued, spite darkening the raspy whisper. "Tempting us, making our lives filled with a hell like no other."

AJ frowned, shrinking back slightly from The Suit's grasp. "Olivia wasn't like that," he argued weakly." He watched with some apprehension as The Suit got down to his level, his black eyes boring holes into his own.

"She was a whore, like all women."

"We just weren't happy," he insisted, squirming beneath The Suit's iron grip stare. "We just needed-"

"You should have taken a stronger hand with her."

"What for?" he wondered aloud after a beat of silence. "It wouldn't have changed anything. She was just more defiant…and more determined to leave," he trailed off.

"Suit yourself." The Suit shrugged his shoulders and reopened his newspaper, feigning disinterest as AJ stared down at the package again.

"I mean," he said after a few moments, "I can't help thinking what could've been done so that things would be different." The Suit chuckled, a bitter and mocking laugh that caused the other man to frown. "What?"

"Do you really think that she's sitting in New York wondering what could've been done differently?" The Suit stood up, clasping AJ's shoulder as he bent to his ear and whispered, "That's the last thought on her mind."

The drop in conversation lulled on the patio, edged on by the sound of crashing waves on the beach. AJ turned back to the package as The Suit tucked the newspaper under his arm and walked away, his last statement still echoing in the former's ears.

He hated to admit how true it was. She wasn't thinking of him. And she more than likely was never coming back to Sunset Beach…or him.

With a sigh of resignation, he dug his finger into the crease of the paper fold and cut through the tape sealing it. The flap popped up and he pulled the paper apart, opening the top of the box without stopping. Inside, nestled amongst a protective mountain of tissue paper was a doublewide jeweler's box.

The black velvet was soft against his fingers as he picked it up gently, the gold trim around the box glared bright white in the mid morning sun. He opened it slowly, the back hinges groaning softly.

The diamonds glittered as they caught the sunlight, the sparkle of the engagement ring sliced into his heart swifter and cleaner than any knife. They sat side by side, wedged into the ring box the way they once sat on her finger. The way they no longer did. He wondered briefly if Gregory had already replaced them on her finger.

He snapped the box closed and pushed it deep down in his pocket as he stood. It burned through the material of his trousers, singing his thigh before doing the same to his heart.

* * *

"Try your hardest not to slice off your finger, darling." 

Olivia stifled a grin when Gregory looked up from the block of milk chocolate he was cutting into and rolled his eyes. "I think I can handle it," he assured her, breaking off a morsel from the sweet block and offering it to her.

"Oh, I didn't doubt it," she mumbled, the creamy chocolate melting in her mouth. She smiled as she covered her mouth to keep the contents from falling out. She swat his bottom playfully and winked coyly when he glanced up in surprise.

"We'll save that for later," he promised with a wicked look in his eye. She arched her eyebrow, the look of knowing flashing in her violet eyes.

"Be that way," she sighed as she turned back to the counter and took in the packages on the counter. "There's so much food," she commented as she pushed the cartons aside. "Pears or apples?"

He shrugged as he dropped the pieces of chocolate into the small pot and began to stir. "You decide."

"That's _so_ helpful," she mumbled as she picked through the groceries. "Neither then."

"I'm stirring the fondue," he pointed out, looking up in time to catch her reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

"Stirring the fondue?" she repeated incredulously as she jutted her hands on her hips defiantly. "Really Gregory, it doesn't take much to stand there with a whisk and stir the choc-" she broke off abruptly when she noticed the amused look on his face. She sighed deeply and shook her head. "Honestly darling…"

"Honestly darling," he mocked, pitching his voice high and with his version of a British accent.

"I don't sound like that," she pouted, causing him to chuckle and lean over.

He kissed her cheek and said, "Sure you don't."

She snorted and pushed him away, rolling her eyes when he grinned smoothly and resumed stirring the slowly melting chocolate. She pushed a bottle across the counter surface and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Let's use cognac instead of rum."

"It's up to you."

"Good." She grinned, laying her head against his back. Rain pelted the small window in the kitchen, tears running down the pane of glass. "This was such a wonderful idea," she sighed.

Gregory chuckled, the whisk scraping the side of the ceramic pot as he stirred the melted chocolate one last time. "It was your idea," he reminded her, pouring in a generous splash of cognac.

"So it was." She kissed the back of his neck before moving away from him and piling several bowls and plates onto a wood tray. "And I'm famished, so let's go," she ordered playfully, pushing backwards through the swinging door to hold it open for him.

"Yes ma'am," he retorted dryly as he followed her into the dining room

The chandelier was turned to the lowest setting, the candelabras on the linen draped table cast odd shadows onto the dark blue printed wallpaper. The glass doors that opened into the sunken living room were flung open, allowing the soft strains of a saraband to drift through the doorway.

Olivia slid into one of the high backed chairs next to the head and watched as he set the flame to low under the pot. The rich smell of the chocolate fondue perfumed the air, mingling with the freshly cut flowers in centerpiece. She folded her hands and rested her chin on them, smiling expectantly as Gregory took the seat at the head.

"What?" he asked as he passed her one of the long forks.

She shrugged innocently, their fingers brushing as she took the fork and tapped it softly on the table. "Aren't you going to say something? About why were celebrating?"

He frowned and thought for a moment as she arranged the bowls and plates between them. "You know why we're celebrating. I know why we're celebrating. What more is there to say?"

"Darling," she sighed, "you aren't making this easy for me." She speared a plump strawberry and dipped it in the pot, twirling it between her thumb and forefinger to lose the excess. She held it up triumphantly for a moment before sinking her teeth into the fleshy fruit. The marriage of warm chocolate and sweet strawberry sang with harmony and she sighed in contentment before setting the fork aside and reaching for a long piece of almond biscotti.

He chuckled as he swirled a piece of banana in the chocolate. "You want me to say something to commemorate the event?"

Her eyes closed in gratitude for a moment as she smiled in relief. "Exactly." She opened her eyes and said, "It's the first time that I've filed divorce papers."

"Fortunately for you, it's also the _last_ time," he reminded her, leaning forward for a bite of the chocolate dipped biscotti she held out to him.

"Unfortunately for you," she laughed, wiping away a drop of chocolate that dripped onto his chin, "that means you're stuck with me…forever."

"That would never make me unfortunate," he assured her, licking the dollop of chocolate off her finger.

"Oh darling," she sighed as she stood from her chair and sank into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "_Good_ answer."

He laughed as she kissed him, drawing her closer as his hands ran up her thigh to settle on her hip. A wavering chord from the saraband echoed in the apartment, drowning out the low moan in her throat as his hand slid beneath the waist of her pants. His other hand dug in her hair, lost in the dark mane as her hand brushed the side of his neck.

He sighed against her lips, the taste of chocolate and berry on them enticing him more. The silk of her blouse bunched as he pulled it free from her pants. She worked slowly, pulling open his shirt with painstaking ease and running her fingers lightly across his stomach. His chest rumbled, a near guttural gasp as she skimmed dangerously low and near the point of no return.

She still felt it. Even now, without everything in the open and sharing her life with him, she still felt as excited as the first time. Shadows danced across his face from the multi tiered candelabras, but she felt his passion cloaked eyes on her, felt his insistent hands on her flesh. She knew that they would never be tired with one and other.

And the insistent buzzing of the doorbell doused the flames of desire quicker than a snowball melting in Lucifer's lair.

"What the hell?" Gregory swore as he pulled away, sighing angrily as he glanced back in the general direction of the front door.

With a sigh, she rested her forehead against his. "Perhaps we're being told something."

"What? Not to make love tonight? Like hell," he growled as she pushed off his lap. "We'll get rid of whoever it is and then," he whispered, dropping his voice as he held her close, "we'll pick up where we left off." He tapped her lips softly, the pad of his finger tracing a circle around her chin. "Don't you move."

She smiled softly and grabbed his hand, holding him back. "I'll go." She placed a quick kiss on his lips and explained, "The person on the other side of the door will thank me. With the mood you're in, you're likely to rip their heads off."

She grinned over her shoulder as she left the dining room and turned the corner to the foyer. Her feet padded across the hardwood floor, sighing as the doorbell buzzed again. She stood on her toes and squinted into the peephole, only to find it obscured.

With a sigh, she opened the door as far as the chain lock would allow and peered through the crack. "Yes?"

"Surprise Toots!"

"Oh my God!" Olivia gasped as she closed the door quickly, unchained it, and flung it open all the way. She and Bette rushed to one and other, their arms locking tight as their words became unintelligible shrieks understood by only them.

Gregory followed the cacophony to the foyer and leaned against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his chest as he watched the scene before him with a smile on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Olivia asked breathlessly, pulling back enough to lock gazes with her friend.

"I live here," Bette stated nonchalantly, as if it were common knowledge.

Her jaw dropped and she gripped her shoulder. " 'Here' here?"

"Here here," she confirmed, setting off another round of hysterical shrieking.

"How? Where? When!" Olivia fired off the questions in rapid succession, pulling Bette into the foyer and closing the door behind them. "Darling!" she called out happily, not seeing Gregory until she turned around. "Oh, sorry darling," she blushed, holding out her hand for him. "Look! Bette's here!"

"So I gathered from all the excitement." He smiled warmly, wrapping his arm around her waist as he said, "Good to see you again, Bette. How are you?"

"Never better, Greggy. Never better." She chuckled when he frowned at the pet name and she took a moment to glance around the room. "Nice pad you two have here."

"Oh, we'll show you around later," Olivia gushed, stepping away from Gregory to pull Bette into the living room, dropping her coat onto the bench near the door. "Tell us everything. How can you be living here?"

"Simple," Bette said as she kicked her shoes under the coffee table and curled up on the sofa next to Olivia. "Big Daddy's money bought me a loft in the Village."

Olivia snorted and swat Bette's shoulder teasingly. "Stop that. No one but a character out of a Tennessee Williams play calls their father that."

"Well," she grinned wickedly, "I do. Especially since I've hit the big 2-5 and come into my trust fund."

She gasped and nodded. "I had completely forgotten about that." She glanced at the dark green sweater and smiled. "I see you got my gift."

" 'Course Toots." Bette rubbed Olivia's hand affectionately and said, "It's so good to see you again. These last few weeks were…lonely."

She leaned over and hugged her, kissing her cheek. "And now here we are: living in the same city again."

"New York isn't going to know what hit her, with you to on the loose," Gregory interjected as he walked back into the living room.

Olivia looked up, her smile of agreement fading as she saw the smoke tails curling up from the extinguished candles in the dining room. "Darling?" she asked, looking over his shoulder to the remnants of their fondue feast.

He held up his hand, stopping her from going further. "It's fine. You two catch up. I've got a stack of reports to go through. I've put them off long enough." She sat up, leaning on the back of the sofa as he kissed her softly. He pulled back enough to whisper in her ear, "But you're mine later."

She cupped his cheek, smiling at him as she winked subtly. "It's a deal."

As Gregory turned down the hallway to the guest bedroom that served as his study, he heard Bette squeak excitedly, "What's that on your finger?"

He glanced back in time to see Olivia smile broadly and hold up her left hand proudly. "We're engaged!"

Their shrieks echoed off the high ceilings and he couldn't help but smile as he continued down the hall. _Olivia got her celebration_, he thought to himself.


	53. Two Months is an Eternity

(See first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 53: "Two Months is an Eternity"

"So, what's the bottom line?"

Gregory gazed across the conference room table to Max, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He rifled through a stack of papers, the papers crinkling between his fingers as his eyes drifted upwards.

Maxwell sighed, the wrinkles of his face growing deeper as he frowned. "The answer isn't on the ceiling, _Junior_," he said gruffly, sitting up in his chair and pushing away the thick proposal his eldest son put before him.

A deep sigh rushed from between his lips, bordering on disgust, as he glanced at the faces seated around the table. They stared back at him, waiting expectantly for his decision. He glared down at the open proposal in front of him and closed the folder firmly. "Gregory?" he asked, twisting the ruby ring on his pinkie finger. "What would you do?"

An audible creak echoed in the conference room as the group collectively shifted their gazes from Maxwell to Gregory. Midday sunlight lit up the large room, the beams filtered through the metallic vertical blinds covering the windows. One of the stockholders coughed nervously as Gregory's eyes remained locked on the sheaf of documents he was reading.

Max sat up and leaned over to his father. "What are you doing?" he hissed wildly. "This is _my_ deal."

"No," his father corrected, leaning close to him so that the whole table didn't hear their conversation, "the deal belongs to _Richards Enterprises_. Always has, always will." He looked his eldest son square in the eye and said gravely, "It would behoove you to remember that from time to time."

He sat back, ending the discussion and dismissing his son with one effective gesture. His hands smacked the table, reminiscent of a drum roll. "Gregory, we're waiting."

Gregory looked up, closing the file with a decisive gleam in his eye. "I'd sell. Sell now so that we can cut our losses early. Certainly we've lost a tidy profit, but if this projection is accurate," he said with a sideways look at his eldest brother, "than we stand to lose much more if we continue on."

Maxwell nodded and stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. "My sentiments exactly." As the rest of the table stood, he turned to Gregory and clasped his shoulder. "Get with Harry and Stephen to make this happen."

He nodded, ignoring the way Max's eyes bore holes into them. His father turned away after a long moment, instructing Maxwell to walk with him back to his office. "Walk with him" being code for a lecture on the business practices of _Richards Enterprises _and the gift of common sense.

Bill finished off the rest of his coffee with a long swig and followed Gregory out of the conference room. "This should be one for the record books," he suggested, gesturing with his head to their brother and father walking down the hall in the opposite direction.

Gregory shrugged, glancing at the pair out the corner of his eye. "Max has no one to blame but himself. It was a lousy merger anyway." He nodded at the junior executive who passed them and lowered his voice slightly. "I can't understand why he thought it was a 'winner' in the first place."

"You know, Max. Delusions of grandeur and all that other crap."

He chuckled. "I thought you were going to say it was the burden of being the first born son."

"Oh, that too."

Gladys glanced up as they walked into the office, chuckling amongst themselves. "These are just in the last hour," she deadpanned as she held up a stack of phone messages. "I put the one from _Ernst, Weiss, and Burkhardt _on top."

"I'll take that one now and get back to the rest after lunch."

Bill followed him into the office, dropping his leather agenda on the empty chair in front of Gregory's desk and taking the other one for himself. "What's with them?"

Gregory smirked and leaned back in his chair, holding out the open humidor for his brother's benefit. "Despite my urgent desire to marry Olivia tomorrow," he smiled, mirroring his brother's earnest grin, "she needs a divorce first." He picked up the small memo and waved it lazily in the air. "_Ernst, Weiss, and Burkhardt_ are the best divorce attorneys on the East Coast. George Burkhardt is handling the case personally."

"So what are we looking at?" Bill asked as he flipped open his date book. "June? July?" When his younger brother didn't answer but instead returned the question with a look of bewilderment, he sighed and clarified, "The big day…When are the two of you planning to get hitched."

"We haven't thought that far ahead. Olivia wants the divorce settled first."

"Well, that should be over in a few short months," Bill pointed out. "I mean, it's not like she's asking for a monetary settlement…is she?"

"Of course not," Gregory scoffed. "She- _we_ want it over and done with as soon as possible." He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly and glanced over at the picture of her in the corner of his desk. Her playful smile and bright eyes beckoned to him from behind the protective glass plate and he couldn't help but finger the antique frame longingly. "Even two more months is longer than I want to wait."

"So then, knowing you and your feelings on the situation, do I need to clear the month of May now? Assuming of course that you'll be marrying Olivia the same day her divorce is granted."

"Sounds like a good idea," he smirked as he counted off in his head. The rest of March, all of April and some of May…an eternity.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he looked up as Gladys poked her head in. "Your father wants to see you in his office."

Ignoring Bill's ominous hum, he nodded and said, "Tell him I'm on my way."

"And I'm on my way out the door."

Gregory followed him across the hall to his own office. "I nearly forgot to ask. You and Madeline don't want to drop everything and join Olivia and I in Gstaad for a week do you?"

Bill frowned and leaned against the door jamb. "Gstaad in March?"

"We wanted to get some skiing in before the end of season."

"When are you leaving?"

"Ten days."

He whistled low. "You haven't told the old man, have you?"

Gregory shrugged and cocked his head in the direction of their father's office. "I'll mention it now."

"You do that," Bill chuckled. "We'll leave the girls with them. Mother will be thrilled and the old man won't say boo to spoil her good mood." With a sigh of satisfaction at the successful arrangement, he said, "We're devious."

"That's a Richards for you." He glanced down at his watch and said, "We'll talk later."

Leaving his brother behind, he thought of Gstaad in ten days and his desire to get away. No vacation in nearly two years, not that he normally took vacations. There was never anyone to enjoy them with. But now, thinking of Olivia and the solitude from work that they'd have…he couldn't help but count down the days until they left.

"Gregory!"

He turned around as he passed through the lobby of the executive floor. Olivia had just stepped off the elevator and was rushing towards him. He caught her as she threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. "What are you doing here?" he asked, cupping her face and placing a long kiss on her lips.

She grinned, leaning against his chest. "Bette and I were shopping for her apartment and then she remembered that she had to go to the bank and sign a something or other for the release of her trust. I was bored and hungry so I came down to entice you into taking a long lunch with me." She smiled demurely, wrapping her arms around his neck. "So will you?"

He frowned, noting the barely contained excitement in her eyes. "You sure you're feeling up to it? You haven't been feeling well the past few days."

She wrinkled her nose, dismissing his concerns. "Nonsense, it was a just a minor flu bug. Though, I should probably keep it light-"

"No. We're _not_ going to _Chang's_," he groaned, realizing where all of this would inevitably end.

"-and just have congee from _Chang's_."

"God Liv, do you realize how many times we've been there since you got here?"

She pouted, dropping her voice to a low whisper. "Please darling?"

"Fine," he sighed as she squealed and kissed his cheek. He'd never be able to say no to those blue eyes. "I'm going to have to buy congee in bulk for you so we don't have to go down there four times a week."

"What a brilliant idea," she sighed, brushing an unruly lock of hair off his forehead. "Let's go now. You don't have any more meetings, do you?"

"A quick one with me," Maxwell interrupted from behind, causing them both to turn. "Though I don't mind being passed over for such a lovely reason."

Olivia smiled as Gregory's arms fell away from her and she leaned over to kiss his father's cheek. "As long as you don't mind," she teased, managing to bring a genuine smile to the face of Maxwell.

Maxwell looked past her to where Gregory stood, quiet amusement on his face. Very few people managed to instantly charm his father and he felt a measure of satisfaction that Olivia was one of those people. "We just need to go over what we discussed in the board meeting," he reminded Gregory.

"Of course. We were just discussing our lunch plans," he explained to his father, resting his hand in the small of Olivia's back. She glanced over her shoulder and tossed a grin in his direction. "You can wait in my office, Liv. It shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes."

"Not a problem." She pressed her cheek to his, whispering in his ear, "The congee isn't going anywhere." With a wink to him and a goodbye to his father, she sauntered down the hall in the direction of his office.

"That's one hell of a woman," Maxwell remarked to his son as they walked down the hall.

"Don't think I don't know it," Gregory chuckled as he followed his father into his office.

* * *

"I still think we should've stayed home."

Olivia rolled her eyes, draining her shot of whiskey with one gulp as lively music threatened to drown out their conversation. "Darling, I already told you. I wasn't staying home on St. Patrick's Day. It would've been…un-Irish of me."

"Well, you're little flu bug doesn't seem to care. And, we're leaving for Gstaad in two days, in case you forgot."

She sighed and wrapped her arm around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. "One night of drinking and carousing won't kill me…or you," she teased, giggling as he shook his head indulgently.

"I'm not even Irish."

She feigned a gasp, poking him playfully in the chest. "Everyone's Irish on St. Patrick's Day." The saying caused him to roll his eyes and she laughed, grabbing his face for a long kiss. "That includes you," she dictated breathlessly after they broke apart.

"If you say so," Gregory said dryly, the thumping music only rivaled by the thumping feet from the crowd. Despite his concerns, he had to marvel at her stamina. Several shots and several jigs later, she was still going strong and her cheeks flushed a rosy red. Her hair flew around her head as she joined the crowd, disappearing into a circle of step dancers as he and Bette watched from the side.

Her eyes were glazed over and she sighed happily as she leaned against him, watching the revelers circle the bar in time. He wrapped his arm over her, feeling her heart pound in her chest. "Would you do something for me?" he asked, the breath of his question tickling her ear.

She glanced up at him, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Anything," she said simply, without a moment of thought.

"Go to the doctor tomorrow."

She groaned, pushing off his chest and turning to face him. "Darling, you're worse than my father."

He ignored her, squeezing her hand. "Indulge me. Get him to give you something for this flu so that you don't came back from Gstaad completely run down and ill."

"I've had the flu before and lived to tell the tale."

"While skiing?"

"Fine," she sighed after a long moment, conceding his point.

"Thank you," he said softly, drawing her closer for a kiss.

"Excuse me lovebirds," Bette sang as she pushed past them to the table, reaching for her glass. "I need a drink. I'm dying of thirst!"

"Does that mean your fiddler is going to be picking up the rest of your tab?" Gregory deadpanned, meriting a jab in the ribs from Olivia.

Bette chuckled, setting her now empty glass back on the table. "Don't think so, Greggy. I know how much you enjoy doing that." She winked coyly and gestured to the tall man at her side. "Besides, Liam has to play for his own drinks. If he had to play for mine too, he'd be here until tomorrow morning!"

"Just as I thought," Gregory mumbled as Bette and Liam danced away. "For the record, I'm never taking her drinking again."

Olivia grinned. "_You_ try telling her that."


	54. Only the Beginning

(See first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc).

Chapter 54: "Only the Beginning"

Julianna snatched the documents from her son's hand, her eyes working furiously as they skimmed the page. "She's petitioning the courts for a divorce!"

AJ shrunk lower in his chair as she paced the room, throwing the papers angrily onto the coffee table. A clap of thunder seemingly shook the house down to its foundations as rain pelted the windows.

"The gall of her!" she snapped, sitting on the sofa and crossing one leg tight over the other. "Divorcing you! It should be the other way around!"

She stopped suddenly, taking a deep steadying breath. "It's alright," she sighed, pressing the tips of her fingers to her temples. "It's not too late yet. We can still manage to turn this around."

The Suit chuckled dryly, the silver lighter clicking as it sparked and lit the tip of his Cuban cigar. Outside, the palm frond blew around in the powerful wind as a bolt of lightening lit up the horizon.

Julianna eyed him sharply, her malevolent eyes narrowing to thin slits. "Do you find this funny?"

His rolling laughter echoed a bored groan as he leaned back, stretching his long legs out and puffing on the cigar. He grinned widely, pearly white teeth standing out against his olive skin. "Why are you still fighting?" he wondered, tapping his cigar over the crystal ashtray. "She's gone. You're done with her."

"I will _not_," she hissed, "have her basking in the role of victim." She grabbed the documents that arrived by messenger, clenching them in her fist until they were flattened. "'Irreconcilable differences'," she recited bitterly, crumpling the thick papers in her hand. "Absolutely not! The world is going to know her as the adulteress tramp that she is!"

"Let it go," he advised, not without a hint of warning. "Don't let this hatred you have for her consume you."

"Oh, go to hell," she sighed, taking a long sip from the crystal tumbler. The ice cubes clinked against the sides.

The Suit sat up quickly, the cigar dangling from his fingers. "It's one of Sun Tzu's first rules: irritate your enemy if he's angry. You're playing right into their hands."

She nodded in agreement, sitting up straighter and smoothing back her blond hair. "You're right. Of course," she said, almost as an afterthought as she fingered the large sapphire hanging from her ear lobe. "We need to fight fire with fire."

The Suit shook his head, his words lost on her as AJ sat up defiantly.

"What the hell are you two going on about! I'm sitting right here!" He grabbed the papers, smoothing out the thick creases as Julianna watched him in silence. "She is- was _my_ wife…not yours," he reminded them, looking at his mother before turning to The Suit, "and certainly not yours." Confusion wrinkled the corner of his eyes as he asked, "Why are you acting like this?"

"Why?" Julianna asked, standing up and mustering more presence with her slender build than any man twice her size ever could. "_Why_!" Her words were shrill now as she jutted her hands on her hips. "I'll tell you why: she made a fool of us! She made a fool of you! She besmirched this family's good name and I have to tell you AJ, your poor father is turning over in his grave at this betrayal! And if he were still alive, this would most definitely be the thing to kill him! Frankly, I won't stand one more moment of it. Not after everything that we did for her."

AJ sighed, folding his hands in his pockets as he considered his next words carefully. "Maman, let it go-"

"Never," she interrupted, venom dripping from her lips as she snatched the divorce papers from him. "I'll fight her to the death if I have to." She spun around, locking eyes with The Suit from where she stood. "We'll need to call the lawyers. We're counter suing for divorce, on grounds of fraud as well as infidelity."

"Fraud!" AJ sputtered, grasping his mother's shoulder and squeezing lightly. "Maman, have you gone insane? She isn't even asking for a settlement. She just wants the divorce."

"_Fraud_," she reiterated, wrenching away from her son's touch. "She married you for your money and used the marriage in order to land a bigger catch."

"Maman, don't-"

"Don't fight me on this!" she ordered, stalking out of the room with a defiant gleam in her eyes. "I'll handle it."

The Suit followed her out, nipping at her heels until she reached the staircase. He grabbed her arm and threw her into the wall, her head bouncing against the paneling. "Your son is right…You are insane!"

She laughed, an uncontrollable and trilling noise that did little to convince him that she wasn't the very thing he accused her of being.

He squeezed her wrist, as if that action would secure the thin lock she had on the last bit of her sanity. "I mean it," he growled, twisting her wrist away from her head and crushing it to the wall, "this will destroy you if you aren't careful."

"I won't let her win," she spat, fighting his grip and writhing against him. "Not after everything. She doesn't get the happy ending!"

"Why?" he shouted, struggling to keep his voice to the minimum. "Because you didn't? Because she did what you didn't have the guts to do!"

Hatred gleamed in her eyes, white burning anger that boiled her blood. She drew back, spitting in his face. "Bastard," she hissed. He dropped her wrist with a string of Greek curses, cradling his eye as it throbbed from the projectile. She pushed him away, storming up the stairs. The black scarf around her neck fluttered in her wake, eerily reminiscent of a wave goodbye.

"You'll regret this," he called out after her. "And I'll be damned if you bring me down with you."

She waved off his declaration with her hand, striding down the hall to her room with a purpose. _This is only the beginning_, she thought to herself.

* * *

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed, signaling the turnover of a new hour. Sunset fell over the city, filling the living room with an orange glow. Olivia sat perfectly still in the armchair, facing the windows with a view of the park and a cup of hot tea to her right. Her hands nestled perfectly in her lap, though that did not stop her from twisting the pear shaped diamond on her left hand. 

She had seen hours roll by in this chair, the sun fade into the west and her tea descend from piping hot to lukewarm. She was frozen, encased in ice that she couldn't melt.

Her ears registered the familiar sound of his keys in the lock, the creak of the hinges on the door as he pushed it open. Was it that time already?

"Liv?" she heard him call, followed by the thump of his briefcase on the wood floor. She gripped her hands tighter and willed herself to move or respond to his call, but found that she couldn't. "Liv?" she heard again. "You home?"

The sound of his footsteps put him in the archway to the living room, facing her back. He walked down the shallow steps into the living room and walked around the sofa to where she sat. "Are you asleep?" he asked as he bent down, grasping her shoulders and placing a kiss on her neck.

She shook her head as he walked in front, his hand trailing down her arm as he crouched on the ottoman before her.

"Just not answering me?" he teased, cupping her knee and squeezing it affectionately.

She forced a smile, still fingering the ring on her left hand. "Sorry darling," she whispered, the dryness of her throat cracking her voice. "I was just-"

"A million miles away," he finished with a smile, loosening his tie and shrugging out of his suit jacket.

"Something like that," she sighed, a secretive grin curling the corners of her mouth.

"Well, that's all right," he said as he leaned back, sighing tiredly and kicking off his shoes. "Are you packed?"

"Packed?"

His brown eyes bugged from his head as he sat up, resting his hand on her thigh. The navy blue silk of her robe was soft beneath his hands and it rippled as he caressed her leg. "Earth to Olivia…Remember Gstaad? We leave tomorrow."

Realization sparked in her eyes, quickly to be replaced by guilt. "Oh…that…"

"You're not packed yet?"

She bit her lip, her anxious fingers moving from the engagement ring to the cuff of her robe. "No, not exactly."

He groaned, his eyes lowering in disappointment. "Sweetheart, I've seen you try and pick out an outfit to wear to dinner. Packing for a transatlantic flight isn't even in the same league!" he laughed, reaching out to cover her hand with his own.

"Gregory-" she started.

"Better yet, don't pack at all. Just bring an empty suitcase and I'll buy you everything you'll need when we land in Switzerland."

Her face melted into a smile as she sat up, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Darling, you don't understand…"

He paused, inching closer to her until their knees knocked together. "What?" he asked simply, cupping her thighs.

She frowned, her eyes revealing an inner turmoil that she wasn't ready to speak of yet. "We can't," she began after several long beats of silence, "go to Gstaad- at least not to ski."

He watched her silently for a moment, noting the laughter that danced in her eyes. "And why not?" he finally asked, confused beyond all belief.

She laughed, one that hinted at a delicious secret. "Because," she explained, unable to keep the giggle out of her voice, "it's not recommended for a woman in my condition."

His expression was one of raw incredulousness, a deer-in-the-headlights look if ever there was one. She covered her mouth, muffling her laughter as he choked out, "Your…_condition_?"

Olivia took his hand, smiling against his shock. "I'm six weeks pregnant," she whispered, barely able to contain her excitement.

The breath rushed out of his body, deflating his chest as he stared dumbly at her. Silence weighed heavily between them and she mistook the quiet.

"Oh darling," she rushed, grabbing hold of his hand and threading her fingers with his, "I know we only talked about children a few times and how _un_-fond of them you are." She laughed nervously, the words coming faster now to fill the void. "But this would be our child and he or she wouldn't be clingy, or annoying, or any other negative thought you have about children. And really, we haven't exactly been living like monks these last few weeks."

She looked up, smiling serenely as she took a breath. "Darling, don't you see? It's fate. Everything's happening so quickly because it's fate's way of making up for all the time we lost before."

He shook his head, as if he was waking from a deep sleep. "I'm sorry…Do you think this is me being mad?"

She shrugged, sighing as she tilted her head in thought. "I know you were looking forward to skiing in Gstaad and-"

The words died on her lips as Gregory stood, pulling her up with him. "Skiing doesn't matter. Gstaad could fall off the world for all I care." He cupped her face, staring past her eyes and to the core of her soul. "Our baby," he whispered, their faces so close that his lips grazed hers.

Her hair was slightly damp, drying in loose waves around her face. He wrapped his arms around her, closing his eyes and sighing into her dark tresses. Without warning, he picked her off the ground, spinning her around as he captured her lips. Her arms locked around his neck, closing her eyes as the room spun and she lost herself in his embrace.

She laughed when he pulled away, a proud smile lighting up his face. "Are you happy?" she asked, rubbing her nose softly against his.

"Deliriously so."

He hugged her tight, her face turning into his neck as her feet returned into the ground. "This is only the beginning," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes when he pressed his hand lightly against her still flat stomach.

He cleared his throat, though his voice was still a quiver when he asked, "Of what?"

"The rest of our lives."


	55. Breathe In, Breathe Out

(See first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc).

Chapter 55: "Breathe In, Breathe Out"

"Sweetheart?"

The gentle nudging roused Olivia slightly and she grunted as she rolled over. "Hmm?"

"Olivia?"

"What?" she groaned softly. She forced her eyes open, wincing at the beam of sunlight that fell in through the curtain break. "I'm sleeping."

Gregory chuckled softly, brushing a lock of dark hair away from her cheek. He covered her hand with his as she smiled tiredly.

"You woke me up," she stated accusingly as he kissed her lips softly.

"Only to tell you I'm leaving," he whispered as she cupped his cheek. "I'll be home early."

She nodded, arching her back and stretching her arms high above her body. "It's morning?" she asked through a yawn.

He braced his arms on either side of her legs, mild amusement splayed across his face. "Of course it is. What time did you think it was?"

She shrugged, closing her heavy eyelids. "I don't know," she mumbled as she turned her sensitive eyes from the sunlight. "What time is dinner with your parents tonight?"

"Reservations are for seven thirty." He rubbed her hip comfortingly when she sighed heavily. "We can cancel though."

"No," she said, turning back to him and taking his hand. "We need to tell them before they leave for Palm Beach."

"We can have them here then," he offered. "You're too tired to go out."

She pushed herself up and leaned heavily against the wood headboard. "I might as well go out now," she smirked, "before I start to look _really_ pregnant."

He nodded grandly and leaned closer for emphasis. "Because that would just be unacceptable. A pregnant woman who actually looked pregnant."

She giggled and swat his chest playfully, sitting up as he wrapped his arms around her back. "You and your sense of humor."

"It's why you love me."

"That…and your behind."

Gregory's laugh rumbled deep in chest, as warm and comforting as anything she'd ever known. She yawned again and closed her eyes.

"Don't tell me I'm putting you to sleep," he said softly, kissing the side of her head as he laid her gently back on the bed.

"I'm just so-"

"Tired," they finished together.

"Being pregnant is hard work," he pointed out, earning himself another swat from Olivia.

"There goes that sense of humor again."

"Well, I can't let my posterior have all the fun, now can I?"

"Apparently not," she deadpanned with another yawn.

"Any plans for today?" he asked after a moment.

"Oh, of course," she answered, laying on the exaggeration. "I plan on moving from the bed to the sofa and I am going to try my hardest not to be sick today."

He patted her hand encouragingly and said supportively, "Have a good time then."

She grinned as he cupped her face, stroking her neck softly with his thumb as he placed a long kiss on her mouth. "I'll try," she whispered when he broke away.

* * *

A cool breeze blew off the beach, bringing the taste of salt to AJ's lips. He stood on the top step, gazing at the beach before him. Silver sunlight reflected off the waves, glaring in his eyes. He blinked once before shielding his eyes with his palm. 

"None of that now," Julianna said from behind. She gripped his shoulder and turned his face to her, tracing his jaw with her index finger. "A few months away from Sunset Beach will do you some good. The South Pacific is lovely at this time of year."

He nodded, not bothering to correct her assumption. Wrapping his arm around his mother's shoulders, he hugged her close. He buried his face in her hair, taking in the familiar aroma that was purely Julianna. "I'll be fine," he promised her softly.

"Good." She patted his chest and shrugged out of his embrace. Linking her arm through his, she gently pulled him away from the terrace and back into the house. She nodded at The Suit, who picked AJ's suitcase from the polished marble floor. "Now I don't want you to worry about a thing while you're away."

They passed through the foyer and out the front door to where the limo idled in the driveway. As The Suit secure the last of the luggage in the trunk, AJ turned to his mother. "I won't. You have my proxy statement for the shareholders meetings and-"

"Not another word about it," she insisted with a slight chuckle. She stood on her toes and kissed him once on each cheek. "The company will be fine."

"Oh, I know it will," he sighed as he squeezed her tight.

She began to pull away after a moment and forced a smile up at him. "You'll miss your flight darling."

He nodded and sank into the darkness of the backseat. "I'll check in periodically and you-"

"Now darling, this is your vacation. It's a time for you to rest." Julianna rested her hand atop the door, ready to close it. "I don't expect to hear from you more than once every few weeks."

"Now Maman-"

"Darling, please don't argue with me." She smiled down at him until he relented and sat back against the leather seat. "Have a good trip darling." She was about to close the open car door when AJ leaned forward suddenly and looked back up at her. "What now?" she asked, a hint of irritation in her voice.

"One last thing, I promise." He brushed an unruly lock of hair off his forehead and said, "I want the divorce to be as painless as possible. I've already spoken to Sam Andersen. He knows my feelings on this." He locked eyes with his mother, speaking slowly and clearly. "Let him handle it."

Julianna sighed, shaking her head slightly as she smoothed the hem of her beige blouse. "You've made your feelings on my involvement clear, AJ."

"Good." He reached out, grasping the door handle. "I'll see you in three months, Maman."

The back door closed and The Suit rapped his hand on the hood of the limo. It rolled away slowly, braking at the foot of the driveway before turning carefully onto the road.

"How clear was he?" The Suit asked as Julianna waved mechanically.

"Crystal," she said through the smile plastered on her face. Once the limo was out of sight, her hand fell quickly down to her side. "I just never promised to abide him."

He followed her into the house, closing the heavy glass doors behind them. "And Andersen?"

She turned on the stairs, one hand perched on the railing. "He knows who pays his bills."

* * *

Gregory pressed his hand into the small of Olivia's back as they followed the hostess through the restaurant. As he smiled and nodded to several people he recognized, she whispered breathlessly, "I'm so sorry, darling." 

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Don't apologize. They won't even notice how late we are. If I know Maxwell, he's already ordered." He kissed her cheek and she smiled half-heartedly as the hostess directed them to their table.

Eleanor stood, pressing her cheek to her son's as he hugged her. "We were beginning to think we'd be dining _a deux_." She took both of Olivia's hands, flinching at how cold they were. With a warm smile, she said, "It's good to see you again, Olivia."

Olivia smiled weakly and accepted the playful kiss that Maxwell placed on her cheek. It was Gregory's hands as he guided her into the chair, massaging them lightly as he whispered in her ear, "Deep breaths."

She nodded, sucking in a mouthful of air to quell the growing nausea. He smiled encouragingly and sat down next to her, his hand resting on her thigh. The voices of his parents faded from the foreground as she concentrated on her breathing. She pushed aside the damask tablecloth to grip his hand, wrapping her fingers tightly around his.

"-and Caroline made us the sweetest goodbye card," Eleanor gushed as the waiter presented the newcomers with their menus. "She's such a thoughtful child."

Gregory nodded, wincing slightly as Olivia's iron grip around his fingers increased. He flipped open the menu with one hand, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Olivia's remained shut in front of her. As he ordered, he saw her chest rising faster and her throat working furiously.

"And for you, Madame?" the waiter asked Olivia.

Her eyes flew up and she glanced around the table before turning to the waiter. "I'd just like a cup of tea for now."

"Very good." The waiter nodded graciously at Maxwell before turning away.

Eleanor watched Olivia over the rim of wine glass, her eyebrow arched in thought. "Are you not feeling well?"

Maxwell turned his gaze to the younger woman and she shrank back, the weight of everyone's eyes on her no remedy to the storm churning in her stomach.

"I'm fine," she choked out, exhaling deeply as she inched her free hand toward her water glass. "I just had a rather large, and late, lunch." She forced the only reassuring smile she could muster and picked up the goblet, hoping no one noticed the way her hand trembled.

"I say, all this cold weather would make even the healthiest person ill," Maxwell announced as he sipped his scotch. "It's the end of March and it's as cold as it was in January."

"Then your trip to Palm Beach is well-timed," Gregory said as the waiter placed a steaming cup of tea in front of Olivia

"We will try and bring back some of the warm weather with us," Eleanor promised as the waiter set a silver covered dish before her and Maxwell.

Olivia picked up the china teacup, feeling a measure of comfort from its warmth. She sipped it gingerly as her tense stomach muscles began to relax. Gregory's hand ran a lazy path up and down the length of her thigh. She leaned back in the chair and sighed thankfully, the horror of morning sickness gone for the moment.

"We already started," Maxwell explained, no hint of apology in his statement. "Your mother was worried you weren't coming."

"_I_," Eleanor corrected sharply as the waiter grandly removed the cover from their dishes, "was simply concerned that something was wrong."

New bursts of flavors blanketed the table, primarily wafting from Maxwell's filet mignon. Olivia blanched dramatically, the nausea instantly returning. The overwhelming stench of the rare meat filled her nostrils and she raised her hand shakily to cover her mouth and nose.

"Are you alright?" Gregory asked urgently, leaning closer to her.

Eleanor and Maxwell looked up in concern, though he continued to cut into the filet. Olivia watched as his knife sank into the tender meat, red juice spilling out from the pink.

"Olivia?" she heard him ask again as the bile rose in her throat. She clamped her hand over her mouth and jumped up, shaking the table violently.

Gregory jumped up after she bolted, throwing his napkin down as he started after her.

"Gregory," Eleanor insisted, placing a restraining hand on his arm, "I'll go."

He stared at her for a beat before relenting, standing aside so she could take Olivia's purse as she passed. He sank back into his seat, watching as his mother walked quickly after Olivia.

As the other patrons turned back to the tables, the moment of excitement over, Maxwell leaned in and asked discreetly, "Is she ill?"

* * *

Olivia staggered into the ladies room, her feet stumbling forward as she passed through the powder room to the toilet. She crashed into a woman, pushing her into the woman in front of her. 

"Do you mind?" the woman huffed. "We're all waiting."

Tears welled in Olivia's eyes as she glanced wildly around the powder room. Two plush lounges sat on either side of a discreet ashtray on one wall. An overstuffed armchair stood against the second wall next to a delicate looking table that held a large spray of flowers. Two marble sinks and another mirror lined the other wall, a stack of folded white hand cloths between them.

She dashed to the wicker basket next to the sink and fell to her knees, retching into the pile of discarded hand cloths. "Oh God," she heard one of the women behind her gag.

She gripped the edge of the wicker, her knuckled burning white. As her stomach seemingly forced up its own lining, she felt the weight of her hair lift from her shoulders.

"It'll pass," Eleanor whispered as she draped a cold compress on the back of her neck. She nodded, her eyes burning with hot tears as her stomach continued to rebel against her.

After what felt like an eternity, her sickness subsided and she felt her insides quiet. Her hands released the wicker and she sighed shakily, resting her head on her arm.

Eleanor passed her a hand cloth and turned to the disgusted women still waiting in line. "You'll have to excuse her," she apologized. She patted Olivia's shoulder and whispered conspiratorially, "She's expecting."

There was a collective sigh of endearment, the acknowledgment that the once revolting behavior was now forgiven. Eleanor smiled at line of ladies once more before turning back to Olivia with her hand extended. She helped her up, walking her over to the sink.

"How did you know?" Olivia asked softly after she rinsed out her mouth. She took the new hand cloth Eleanor passed her and patted her face dry.

"I went through this four times," Eleanor reminded her, passing the younger woman her purse. "I haven't seen anyone but a pregnant woman get so sick so quickly at the site of steak."

Olivia pinned her hair up, sniffling as she wiped at her still teary eyes. "It's not just steak," she explained softly. "It's any meat. I can't even stomach the smell of it." She sighed, taking in the pallid complexion of her skin and her bloodshot eyes. "This isn't the way we wanted to tell you," she added, turning her eyes to Eleanor's reflection in the mirror.

"Oh my dear," Eleanor sighed, taking Olivia in her arms. She felt her sigh shakily and she pulled back to cup her face. "Don't even give that a moment's thought." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ears and smiled reassuringly. "This is, by far, the best news that I've been privy to all year."

Olivia smiled in relief and fell back into her future mother-in-law's embrace. She closed her tired eyes, realizing the upside of it all. She'd found an ally in Eleanor Richards.


	56. Primavera

(See first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc).

Chapter 56: "Primavera"

It is a major occasion when the buds of spring begin to appear on the thousands of trees in Central Park, for they were a harbinger of spring. The creamy white buds dotting the branches heralded the green leaves that once again would canopy the ground paths. Flowers pushed through the soil, breaking the confines of winter to bloom. Pedestrians eagerly filled the pathways of the park, strolling aimlessly through the beams of sunlight that the filtered through the leaves.

Cafés began seating patrons outdoors again, the white tablecloths bright against the graying buildings and sidewalk. It was where Olivia sat one Friday morning, a shaft of light warming her bare arms. The sunlight fell awkwardly, partially blocked by a tall building. She adjusted her chair, taking advantage of all the mid-morning sun that she could.

A waiter placed a small plate in front of her, a knob of butter melting over the freshly baked croissant. She nodded her thanks, but her turned her face back up to the sun. The chatter of the passers-by on the sidewalk washed over her, barely registering in her consciousness.

"Well, aren't you just the picture of morning cheerfulness?"

She looked up as Bette collapsed into the seat across from her, sheltering her eyes with her hands. "Today I am," she smiled as she removed her dark sunglasses and passed them over. "I think you need them more than I do."

"Ugh, I do." She put them on her face, pressing her hand to her head. "What a night," she moaned.

"Apparently." Olivia took a long sip of her tea, sucking in the scent of ginger. "Bad night?"

"Oh no. _Great_ night, if you know what I mean. This is the downside." With a sigh, Bette sat up and sighed tiredly. "But look at you! Are you feeling better?"

"Today I am."

She waved the busboy over and held up her mug, twisting it in the air until he bustled over with a pot of steaming coffee. "No more nasty morning sickness then?" she asked as the dark liquid bubbled out the spout and into her mug.

"Oh, I wish," she giggled. She broke the end off the croissant, flaky crumbs falling to the plate. "No, now it's just become delightfully predictable." She munched on the butter soaked pastry, swallowing before she said, "Every morning at five thirty." She smiled and leaned back, rubbing her still flat stomach. "We've become Gregory's new alarm clock."

Bette downed a mouthful of black coffee, stealing a piece of croissant from the plate. "Aww…I'm sure the big guy's taking it like a champ." She took the menu from the waiter, staring down at the options.

"He's been wonderful," she agreed as Bette ordered. "Always getting up with me, holding back my hair…" She sighed, collapsing her hands beneath her chin. "He's made it bearable."

"I'm happy for you Livie." She leaned in, cupping her coffee mug as she gestured excitedly. "Can you believe how much things have changed since last year?"

"Last year," she trailed off, narrowing her eyes in thought. "We were still in Sunset Beach. I had just met Gregory."

"And now here we are: in New York City, you pregnant and head over heels in love and me, still searching for Mr. Right."

They laughed, ringing in the chorus of car horns from the street. "The more things change, the more things stay the same," Olivia gasped as her voice shook with amusement.

"Oh sure. Except we traded the sound of the ocean and the seagulls for the sound of traffic and pigeons," Bette deadpanned, causing Olivia to laugh harder.

"I love it here," she said, wiping away tears of laughter.

"That's just because Gregory's here."

She shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. "I'd follow him anywhere."

Bette sighed, leaning against her hand. "Now that's romantic."

"And true," Olivia assured her, grinning over the rim of her cup.

* * *

"Gregory? George Burkhardt to see you." 

"Thanks Gladys," Gregory said as he stood, pushing the file he was reading aside. "George, come on in."

"Good to see you, Gregory." He shook his hand forcefully and lowered his voice, saying, "This isn't a social call."

Gregory nodded, closing the door to his office firmly. "I didn't think it was. You're representing Olivia in her divorce." He sat back behind his desk, holding up his hands expectantly. "Give it to me."

Burkhardt's briefcase sat on his lap and he popped the locks open. "In all my years, I've never seen anything quite like it. Others attorneys perhaps, but not me." He pulled out a sheaf of documents and passed them to Gregory. "To put it bluntly: you are being sued."

His eyebrows rose as he skimmed through the heavy papers. "I've been sued before," he said dryly.

"Has Olivia?"

Gregory looked up slowly, setting the pile of documents on his desk. "Olivia?" he asked. "For what?"

Burkhardt reached over, flipping several pages into the bound documents. "Adultery." He pointed at a section, tapping on the paper with his index finger. "You've been named the co-respondent."

"I don't care about me." He leaned forward, pushing the papers back at Burkhardt. "What does this mean for Olivia?"

Burkhardt sighed, waving his hand vaguely in the air. "She'll be named an adulteress on the record, in open court."

"Hell," he growled, "why don't we just brand her with a scarlet 'A' and spit at her in public? Damnit George, this is crap!"

He sat back, shrugging helplessly. "It is," he agreed, "but it's legal."

"It's a legal way to _delay_ the inevitable." He sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. "So, what now? Where do we go from here?"

"If the case goes to civil court-"

"Civil court?!" he exploded. "They're suing for damages?!"

"Gregory, it's a leg-"

"Yes, yes, it's all legal," he said, barely able to keep the disgust out of his voice. His fist came down on the desk, causing his discarded pen to quiver and a framed photo to fall forward.

Burkhardt shifted in the uncomfortable silence, the sudden tension pressing down on him. "We have two options," he said quietly after a long moment. "We could settle-"

"Settling is for losers."

"-_or_ we can contest this ludicrous claim and expose it for what it really is."

Gregory locked eyes with the attorney. "Make it happen." He stood, shaking Burkhardt's hand as he added, "But I won't have Olivia dragged needlessly through the courts. Kill this before it gets too far."

He nodded, accepting the silent understanding that passed between them. "My best to Olivia."

"George?" he called out before the door was opened. "You came to me first, instead of Olivia. She's your client."

He shrugged, gesturing forgiveness at the unasked question. "I thought that it would be better if she heard this news from you."

Gregory watched him go, the door closing quietly behind the attorney. He sank back into his chair, reaching forward to straighten the photo that had fallen over earlier. Olivia's smiling face looked up at him from behind the glass.

"Just when we thought it was almost over," he whispered to the matted print, tracing the outline of her face with his finger.

* * *

The squeal of an electric tool greeted Gregory when he walked in the front door. It raked through him, the whine was eerily reminiscent of a dentists drill. "Liv?" he called. 

"In here darling!"

He followed her voice through the foyer to the living room, where she stood supervising a maintenance worker installing an accent light over the fireplace. "What's all this?" he asked.

Olivia turned around, dropping a large scrap of brown paper to the floor. "As if you don't know," she laughed, leaning into his embrace for a kiss.

He smiled against her lips, glancing at the wooden crate leaning against the wall. A new painting hung over the fireplace, a mother and child sitting in a garden. "Someone bought you a painting?" he asked innocently.

She sighed, wrapping her arm around his waist and leaning against his shoulder. "Darling, I only said that it was lovely when we saw it in the gallery last week."

"You kept gazing at it when you thought I wasn't looking," he answered back as they watched the worker switch the small lamp on. The pale light brought out the red of the poppies and the golden yellow strands of the child's hair. "And you looked heartbroken when you found out it was going on the auction block."

She pulled away from him, stepping closer to the fireplace. "Something this beautiful," she whispered, standing as close to the painting as the mantle allowed, "doesn't deserve the indignity of an auction." Her fingertips grazed the antique wood frame and she smiled at Gregory over her shoulder. "Thank you darling."

The maintenance worker cleared his throat, heaving the now empty crate under his arm. "All finished, Mrs. Richards."

Olivia hid an amused smile behind her hand as Gregory tipped the young man with pleasantly surprised look on his face. "Thank you very much," she croaked, laughter hiding behind her voice as Gregory showed him out.

She leaned against the sofa, her hand unconsciously stroking her stomach. "I couldn't bear to correct him," she explained when he came back a moment later. "It just sounded-"

He pulled off his suit coat, throwing it over the arm of sofa. He grabbed her hand, kissing her knuckles as he finished her sentence in a whisper: "Right." He sank into the soft leather of the sofa, tugging her down with him.

"And it will soon enough," she promised, cuddling against him after she loosened his tie.

His fingers combed through her long hair, twirling a lock around his thumb. Her arm lay across his chest, a comforting weight in the sea of uncertainty that had sprung up around them. "Liv?"

"Hmm?"

"George Burkhardt came to see me today."

She sat still, her head still cushioned by his shoulder. "Oh?"

He closed his eyes, choosing his words carefully as his hand slipped beneath her hair to cup the back of her neck. "There's been some…developments."

Her fist clenched and she hugged him a bit tighter. "Developments? That doesn't sound good," she said softly.

She listened quietly as he recounted his conversation with the attorney, her hand snaking back across his chest to rest over his heart. Foreboding sank into the pit of her stomach, twisting the already strained muscles. "They want to call me a whore in court and get away with it," she interrupted, leaning up to see his face.

Gregory opened his eyes, meeting the sadness that discolored her normally bright eyes. He swallowed hard and whispered, "Yes."

She bit her lip and looked away, sighing heavily. He reached up, touching her chin softly to turn her back to him. He smiled sadly and touched her cool cheek, stroking it once. "We don't have to put you through that," he explained, fingering her earlobe with a light touch. "We can offer-"

Olivia frowned and sat up. "No," she argued, shaking her head furiously, "this is my- _our_- life. I won't compromise and settle." She hung her head for a moment, catching her stilted breath. When she looked back up, she continued, "I spent nearly two years settling for what they offered me. I _refuse_ to go through that again."

He smoothed her hair down, unable to keep the proud smile off his face. "Ok."

"I mean it, Gregory." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it urgently. "The baby is due at the end of October. I want this all over before he or she is born. I want-" she broke off, her falling away from his.

"You want?" he encouraged, jiggling her hand after a moment of silence.

She looked back up, clear determination on her face. "I want the baby born with a clean slate. I don't want him or her touched by any of this."

He pulled her to him and kissed her, as if that would heal everything. "Six months?"

She nodded. "Six months."


	57. Into the Sunset

(See first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc).

Chapter 57: "Into the Sunset"

The leather bag dropped to the sidewalk, the loud plop swallowed up by the whine of an engine. Olivia brushed her hair back and looked up, following the ascending aircraft into the spring dusk. The setting sun streaked the sky a glorious pallet of oranges, pinks, and hints of purple. Stifling a yawn, her eyes settled on Gregory, who was turning away from the skycap that collected their luggage.

"Who said they can never sleep on planes?" he teased, his arm going around her waist as they walked into the private terminal.

She pursed her lips, rolling her eyes at his Cheshire grin. "That would have been me. But darling, we're getting on a plane to London in less than an hour. You let me take a longer nap, so I'm sure I forgot one or more of a dozen things. Not that that really matters, because none of my clothes fit properly anymore."

Stopping abruptly, she turned to Gregory and clasped his hand. "And do you know what the worst thing of all is?" she asked, her voice dropping to a wounded whisper. "I can't have a bloody cup of coffee."

She giggled uncontrollably as he pulled her close, kissing the temple of her head. The expanse of the terminal diminished as he held her close, their foreheads resting against each other. "Coffee isn't that special," he whispered, causing her to smile.

"Of course it is," she insisted as he took her hand. "But you can have a cup whenever you choose."

"Since when? I haven't had a cup in weeks."

Olivia shook her head indulgently as she sank down into one of the sofas in the lounge. She crossed her leg and leaned against him, the rise and fall of his chest lulling her to a calm she only knew with him. "It was rather sweet of you to give up coffee until I can have it again."

He winked down at her, combing her long hair with his fingers. "A few more months won't kill us."

"You say that now," she huffed, prodding him gently with her elbow. "But stranger things have happened." She sighed and collapsed back against him, smiling softly as his arm went back around her shoulders. "I'm exhausted."

His curled fingers brushed the soft flesh of her neck, the silence of the area settling around them. "We could always cancel and go home."

"Oh, no. Poppy was looking forward to seeing us."

"Fine then. We'll go to see your father in Sherborne and forget London."

"But your meetings are in London."

"I didn't want to go to the damn meetings in the first place," he reminded her insistently. "Let me refresh your memory. Our bedroom, two weeks ago." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, amusement dancing across her face. " '_Darling_'," he sighed dramatically, imitating her breathy accent, " '_I think you should go to those merger discussions in London_'. '_Why, Liv_?' '_Because that way I can come with you and we can go see my father_'."

Her eyebrows rose a bit, the corner of her mouth curling. "The only thing would like to say is that I sound _nothing_ like that."

He opened his mouth, prepared to launch a response when a representative from the terminal approached and cleared his throat discreetly. "Jet's fueled and ready, sir."

Gregory nodded and stood, extending his hand to Olivia. "Ready to spend a few boring hours on a plane?"

"Darling, it's a private plane," she reminded him, a strong breeze greeting them as they walked through the double doors to the runway. "I'm sure we can think of _something_ to do."

* * *

Swirling the glass in her hand, Julianna held it to her nose and inhaled the bouquet deeply. "An excellent year," she sighed before taking a sip, breathing once before swallowing. 

The soothing strains of a concerto did little to ease the heavy tension between them. Late afternoon sunlight warmed the stones of the patio, a breeze stirring the shawl draped around her shoulders. Clucking her tongue, she cut a sliver of cheese from the block and sat back heavily in her chair. "It would be a lie if I said that I wouldn't miss all this."

The Suit sat across from her, staring stonily. He rolled his shoulders and eyed the view that she spoke of so highly. Ocean mist hung in the late afternoon air, a scented gifted from the waves crashing on the shore. Taking a long sip from his own glass, he turned back to her. "No one is forcing you to go anywhere."

Julianna brushed off his comment with a wave of her hand. "This town is far too provincial for me- it always has been." Watching him over the rim of her glass, she took a sip before asking, "Why don't you say whatever it is you have to say?"

"You know."

She cocked her head to one side, perplexed. "Do I?"

He pushed the wine glass away, locking eyes with her icy blue ones. "I believe it is time for us to sever our relationship."

A slight arching of her eyebrows was the only visible reaction she had. "Do you now?"

He watched her for a long moment, noting the way fine lines appeared around her pursed mouth. "You are headed," he began softly, leaning in to her, "down a certain path of self destruction."

"Certain?" she interrupted, barely able to keep her amusement out of her question.

"You are blinded by revenge. You'll destroy yourself…and those around you."

"Destruction begets creation."

He chuckled ruefully and stood, deftly smoothing the fabric of his suit coat. "Goodbye, Julianna." He turned from the table, his footsteps fading on the stone patio.

She stayed in her seat for a long while after he left, gazing out at the tempestuous sea. The dull roar of the ocean filled the silence around her, growing more powerful with each passing second. She raised her glass to the horizon, her fingers clenched tightly around the stem. "Goodbye, Stavros."

* * *

It is a slow process, gliding out of the comforting embrace of sleep. The senses slowly come alive and return to the world around them. With a tired grunt, Olivia rolled over and hugged the feather pillow to her chest. Warm sunlight fell in through the open window, the eyelet lace curtains billowing in the breeze. She smiled tiredly, seeing Gregory settled in the armchair, his feet propped on the windowsill. 

"You're awake? And dressed?"

He glanced up from the newspaper, tossing it aside without a thought. "Your father had me out."

"Ahh," she sighed, stretching out as she sank further into the comfort of the warm bed, "he took you about the countryside, did he?"

Gregory grinned and settled next to her, the soft mattress giving as she scooted closer. "Took me to see all the sights." Soft kisses found their way to his lips and he gave in, his hands sliding down her bare back. "Aren't you tired?"

Her blue eyes twinkled as she shook her head. "I feel more alive than I have in weeks," she giggled, her hands slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt. "You've been so patient." She flashed him a smile so apologetic, so endearing that his intended words caught in his throat. "Can you ever forgive me?"

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, the large diamond catching in the pale sunlight. "I think that's a definite possibility," he said softly.

"Wonderful," she exclaimed, her words followed by a long kiss that crossed well over the boundary of restraint. To his surprise, she pulled back after a long moment and propped her elbows on his chest. "I'm starving. What's for breakfast?"

Before he could answer, Olivia threw back the covers and stood, carelessly clipping her dark hair up. She crouched to the floor and rifled through the pile of clothes on the floor, discarded in their haste to undress last night. "It's the funniest thing, darling. A few weeks ago, I couldn't even stand the smell of food, let alone the taste of it. Now, I can't stop eating."

She laughed as she stood tall, a pair of his navy blue boxers complimenting her alabaster skin. "And why the hell are all the clothes on the floor yours?"

He eyed her appreciatively as she turned to the closet, noting the way his boxers hung low on her hips. The swelling of her belly seemed more apparent in her partial nudity, a bump that would soon make its presence known to the world. He felt something build in him as he took in the sight of the sunlight glowing on her pregnant stomach. It was a measure of pride, the likes of which he had never known before.

She swore, her tone drenched in exasperation. He glanced up and bit back an amused chuckle. The faded gray shirt stretched tight across her bust, the front hem riding up on her waist to reveal her stomach. "The bloody seams will be the next thing to go," she mumbled.

"It appears you need that new wardrobe sooner than we thought," he said as passed her one of his shirts. "This will do for now."

Sighing gratefully, she switched shirts and stepped into an ancient pair of fuzzy slippers. "I'm still starving though."

"Of course you are." He squeezed her shoulders lightly as he held her against him. "And it's just one of the many things I adore about you."

She turned to her him, her eyes soft as she cupped his face. "But you won't be so quick to adore me if you don't let me EAT!" A quick peck on the lips and she was gone, the open door allowing him to hear her feet padding down the wood floor of the hallway and he followed soon after.

Framed photos of Olivia at various ages lined the stairwell, giving him a glimpse of her through the years. A toddler with rosy cheeks and a mass of black ringlets gave way to a toothless child, her laughing face hidden by a wide brimmed hat that was better suited for an adult. In the last photos, he encountered the Olivia he was most familiar with, the woman with enticing eyes and a captivating smile.

He passed through the sitting room, where the large oil portrait Thomas painted of Olivia hung over the fireplace. The flesh and blood version sat at the large table, a plate piled high with food before her. She looked up guiltily as he took the seat next to her, her fork never ceasing from connecting with her mouth. He shook his head in amusement and passed her the toast, meriting a chuckle from her as Thomas came out of the kitchen with two more plates.

"Gregory, aren't you feeding my girl?" he asked as passed a laden plate to him.

"Apparently not." Shrugging, he dug into the plate as Olivia croaked and set her fork down.

"You are both entirely too much," she complained half-heartedly, taking a long sip of cranberry juice from her glass.

The two accused men locked eyes, deep understanding passing between them. Thomas grinned teasingly before remarking, "Love, the only thing that's too much is your plate."

Olivia rolled her eyes as they chuckled in unison and muttered, "This baby ought to be a girl as I'm entirely outnumbered by you two."

* * *

"Other amenities include twice daily maid service and round the clock room service." The real estate broker concluded his tour in the foyer, a room with a soaring twenty-foot ceiling and a black marble floor. His client nodded and turned back to the living room, passing the winding staircase with nary a second glance. 

He cleared his throat and followed, eternally perseverant. "Additionally, permanent residents of the hotel receive use a highly trained concierge that could serve as butler, in the event you do not retain your own staff."

"I did not," she said, her tone clipped as she wandered over to the large window. Her eyes moved over what would be her new view, one granite skyscraper after the other. Over two dozen stories below, traffic moved at a steady pace, the cars resembling a line of insects. "And this matter of a waiting list?"

"For you, Madame…there is no waiting list."

She smirked and turned around, her hands clasped genteelly in front of her. "Well then, I'll take it."

The broker smiled, dollar signs dancing in his vision and he would later swear that he heard the cliché _cha-ching _sound in his head. "Madame Deschanel, welcome to the city that never sleeps."


	58. Happenstance

(See first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc).

Chapter 58: "Happenstance"

There comes a point when the bounds of coincidence are tested. When wonders if a seemingly accidental meeting was really that: accidental. On an island that was home to millions of people and thousands of dining establishments, it would seem next to impossible that two acquaintances could literally bump into one and other unexpectedly. But it happens more often than one would suspect. It is, after all, a smaller world than we fathom.

_Much_ smaller…

The heavy brocade curtains for the winter season were gone, leaving the windows bare so the sun came in freely. It cut through the crystal glasses, scattering patches of rainbow across the linen tablecloth and glaring off the flatware. Soft murmurs of conversation came together in a quiet roar that danced in the air.

"That's the beauty of it," Helen von Dorn explained. "My grandchildren visit for a few hours and I send them home to Todd after they are all riled up-"

Eleanor sat back, the idle chatter washing over comfortably. The table comprised of two women she had known for years. These were the friends that she passed the decades with. Women that comforted her when her only daughter drowned and shared the joy of watching their children grow up together.

Laughter rippled across the table and Eleanor snapped back to the moment. "And wouldn't you know," she smiled as her fingers toyed with the stem of her wine glass, "that Maxwell is worse than I am at spoiling the grandchildren?"

"But of course!" Martha Kitteridge-Rutland exclaimed. "Harrison puts me to shame." She sighed and speared a tomato with her fork. "Presents and candies galore…my grandchildren visit us more than their parents do."

"Rightly so," Eleanor smirked. She nodded as the waiter cleared her salad plate and she sat her discarded napkin in its place. "Maxwell is quietly anticipating the arrival of his newest grandchild."

A collective sigh befell the table and Eleanor couldn't help but smile. "And I will admit that he's not the only one. It's such a relief that Gregory's settled."

Martha nodded and set her wine glass back on the table. "One less thing to worry about. It will be a happy day for Harrison and I when Rosemary gets over this independent streak of hers and marries."

"And if you try to gently nudge her in that direction, you're suddenly 'old-fashioned'." Helen shuddered and shook her head. "Me? Old-fashioned?"

Eleanor bit back a chuckle and raised her wine glass to her lips. "You're just insulted that the word 'old' was used in the same breath as your name."

She sniffed dismissively and picked up her own glass. "Nonsense. Marilyn Ashton is old, I'm not." She scanned the restaurant discreetly as her two friends laughed. "So is Sylvia Barry, Jane Wynd- my God, it's Julianna Deschanel."

A chilling note echoed through the restaurant as the flautist changed his tune somewhat appropriately. Eleanor squared her shoulders as Martha commented, "I didn't know she was in New York."

Eleanor ignored their questioning eyes and took a sip of her Cabernet. "Nor did I. But then again, we haven't exactly been on speaking terms."

Helen inclined her head sharply and then glanced up, smiling courteously. "Julianna! It's been ages."

Eleanor turned her head slightly and saw Julianna stop at their table, standing next to her chair. "It has, Helen. Hello, Martha," she heard her say and it was only a moment before she felt eyes upon her. "Why, Eleanor," Julianna cooed, "I almost didn't see you."

She forced a pleasant smile and looked up, blue eyes locking with blue eyes. "Hello, Julianna."

"I was hoping to run into you," she explained, placing her hand lightly on Eleanor's shoulder. "Like Helen said, it's been too long."

Eleanor shrugged her shoulders, gently easing away from Julianna's grip. "Maxwell and I just got back from Palm Beach. We didn't know you were coming for a visit."

"Haven't you heard?" Julianna asked, her slender fingers twisting the long rope of pearls around her neck. "I've closed _Reve de la Mer _and moved here." Against Martha's dropped jaw and Helen's slight gasp, Julianna continued nonchalantly, "I've taken up residence at _The Waldorf Towers_."

Julianna had to hand it to Eleanor. The older woman sat calmly, her hands resting primly on the linen covered table. "Congratulations," Eleanor said with a stillness that gave Martha and Helen pause. "I'm sure you'll be very happy there. My sister, Josephine, lived there for a time after she divorced."

"Yes," Julianna agreed. "I needed closure from the memories that living in Sunset Beach brought on. It was time for a change. With all of my family gone, there was nothing keeping me there." She eyed Eleanor carefully before remarking, "My family is one of my dearest possessions."

Eleanor's eyes narrowed, hardening slightly at the double entendre in Julianna's declaration. "I think we can all agree that family is precious," she said quietly. The two women stared each other down, neither willing to break away first.

Martha glanced quickly at Helen before clearing her throat. "Eleanor, we really need to get across town." For Julianna's benefit, she added, "We're on the board at _The Met _and the Park Drives are a nightmare at this hour of the day."

"Of course," Julianna said as they rose. She smiled at all of them, but her gaze lingered on Eleanor a beat longer. "It was so wonderful to see you all again. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other now that I'm living here."

"Oh yes," Helen gushed as Martha signed the bill. "Call me later in the week."

"I will." Julianna started to walk away, but turned back at the last minute. "Eleanor? Do say hello to Maxwell and the rest of your lovely family for me."

"Thank you. I will," Eleanor said flatly with a slight inclination of her head. "Send my regards to AJ."

With a smile that could seemingly charm even the stone hearted, Julianna swept away to her table. A handsome man stood when she arrived, kissing her intimately on the mouth.

"How long has it been since Armando passed?" Martha whispered to Eleanor as they walked out of the restaurant, Helen in their wake.

"Apparently long enough," Eleanor deadpanned as they stepped into the idling limousine.

* * *

Olivia glared down at the thick sheath of papers in her lap as she absentmindedly chewed on the end of the pen. The words began to blur into one and other and she blinked, throwing the documents aside. They fluttered to the floor, landing in a messy heap at Bette's feet. 

"I thought you weren't going to look at those anymore today," Bette asked as she scooped them up, straightening back into the neat pile they once were and setting them on the coffee table.

Olivia lowered her eyes guiltily, folding her hands atop her stomach. "I just wanted to look through some of them before Gregory got home."

Bette collapsed onto the sofa next to her friend, curling her leg beneath her. "Any closer to the divorce being settled?"

She shrugged and reached forward, rifling through the pale pink bakery box. She plucked a chocolate almond truffle from the box and bit into it, shaking her head. "AJ and his lawyer are doing everything they can to stall the inevitable." She sat the box of truffles on her lap and continued to eat the gourmet desserts as she sighed angrily.

"Hey, hey, hey," Bette said as she rubbed her arm soothingly. "Leave the headaches to the lawyers. If you're upset, Baby Gregory might come out cross eyed." As Olivia began to smile, she continued, "And I absolutely refuse to allow you to do that to that gorgeous child."

"He or _she_ will not be cross eyed." She leaned back against the sofa and passed the box of sweets to Bette. "Besides," she added, "my doctor already warned me against high blood pressure. And I'm trying Bette, I really am."

"I know, Toots." She patted her hand comfortingly and repeated, "Leave it all to the lawyers. They'll handle it."

"I know." Olivia sighed and propped her feet up on the coffee table. "It's just…we all need to move on."

Bette nudge Olivia's foot playfully with her own and grinned excitedly. "Hey Toots…when are we going to start planning your wedding?"

Olivia glanced back at Bette and smiled. "When are you free?"

"For you…for _this_, I'm free anytime." She nibbled on a truffle thoughtfully as Olivia sighed again. "I know a guy."

"Shocking," Olivia teased. "You know a man."

"I know a guy," Bette repeated, ignoring her friend's laughing eyes, "whose sister plans weddings. I'll have her give you a call."

Olivia sighed dreamily as Bette stood. "Wouldn't a May wedding be nice? Warm weather and all the flowers in bloom…" She shook her head and stood as well, dismissing the idea. "There's no way anything will be settled by next month."

"Let the lawyers handle it," Bette sang as she stepped into her shoes. She cupped Olivia's chin and ordered playfully, "And if you keep frowning your face is going to get stuck like that."

Mimicking Bette's admonishment, Olivia chuckled and followed her to the door. "Call me tomorrow?"

"Natch, Livy." She blew her a kiss and opened the door, walking straight into the well-dressed woman who stood on the other side. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"That's quite alright," Eleanor said as she shifted the slightly dented shopping bag to her other hand. "Olivia, I hope this isn't a bad time."

"Not at all," Olivia said, hugging Eleanor tight. "I'm so happy to see you. This is my good friend, Bette." Smiling, she turned to Bette and said, "This is Gregory's mother, Eleanor."

"Oh, it's so nice to meet you," Bette gushed, shaking Eleanor's hand enthusiastically. "Your son is quite the guy. He's made Livy very happy."

"As she has made him," Eleanor smiled as the barest of blushes colored Olivia's cheeks.

"Well then, I should be going." Bette winked at Olivia and promised, "I'll call you."

Olivia gestured Eleanor into the apartment after Bette left and closed the door behind her. "Gregory didn't mention that you were coming into the city."

"This is an unexpected visit," Eleanor explained as she followed Olivia into the living room. "I came in for lunch and a board meeting, both of which ended earlier then expected." She sat on the sofa next to Olivia and eyed her intently. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than that night at dinner," Olivia joked. "I'm always tired and eating everything in sight." She reached forward for the box of truffles and offered it to Eleanor, who declined. "It amuses Gregory to no end."

"And everything is well, with the pregnancy I mean?"

Olivia nodded enthusiastically, swallowing the last of the truffles. "Yes, very well. I had a visit with the doctor before we went to England and he said that everything was 'progressing as it should'."

"Was your father happy with the news?"

"Thrilled. Absolutely thrilled. He's promised to come for an extended visit in October."

Eleanor's eyes widened. "Is that the date?"

"The 30th of October, according to the doctor." Olivia followed Eleanor with her eyes as she leaned to the floor to retrieve her shopping bag.

"I saw this," Eleanor explained as she passed Olivia the bag, "in a store and I just couldn't resist."

Olivia grinned and peaked into the bag. "Should I open it now?"

"Please do." She watched as Olivia dug into the bag, pulling out a square wood box and opening it eagerly.

"Oh, Eleanor," she sighed a moment later. "This is lovely," she whispered as her fingers grazed the sterling silver brush and comb set that rested on a bed of white satin. She met Eleanor's eyes, blinking back tears. "This is the first gift we've received for the baby."

"The first of many." Eleanor reached over, brushing a lock of hair out of Olivia's face. "It wasn't meant to make you upset."

Olivia chuckled, waving away Eleanor's concern. "It doesn't take much these days," she explained softly. She placed the box on the coffee table, purposely overlooking the papers from the lawyer and turned back to Eleanor. "This is the happiest time of my life and-" she broke off, hiccupping back a sob. She wrapped her arms around herself and hung her head, hiding from Eleanor's concerned eyes.

"What's causing his?" Eleanor asked, reaching out for Olivia's shoulder.

Her head rose, wiping tears from her cheeks. "My divorce," she said softly, "is going nowhere. With every step forward, we take another two back."

Eleanor embraced the younger woman without a second thought, rubbing her back as Olivia grasped her tight. "I just want it to be over with," she heard Olivia whisper. She ran her hand over her hair, the distraught woman's sobs ringing in her ears. She thought back to her meeting with Julianna and her contemptuous well wishes for the family Richards. "It will pass," she said softly, her hand running down her back.

Olivia chuckled and raised her head. "Now I know where Gregory gets his deep reserve of confidence from." She took the tissue that Eleanor offered and wiped her face dry. "This is the second time that you've seen me fall apart." She glanced up, watching Eleanor's face. "I hope you don't think I'm always like this."

"It wouldn't be so bad if you were," Eleanor said, causing Olivia to smile. "This isn't the easiest of situations I know, but it's almost over. Everything will right itself."

Olivia sighed and collapsed back against the sofa. "Everyone- Gregory, the lawyers, Bette, _you_- keep saying that. Everyone is so much more confident than I am."

"You have to believe, Olivia. Believe in Gregory. Believe in each other and your love." Olivia nodded and she continued, "Believe in your future."

"I will," she promised. "Thank you so much."

It was Eleanor's turn to smile as Olivia reached forward and hugged her again. "You're welcome," she whispered as she closed her eyes, knowing it was the right decision not to tell Olivia that her soon-to-be former mother-in-law was now living just nine city blocks away.


	59. Watcher

(See first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc).

Chapter 59: "Watcher"

The calmness of the doctor's waiting room appealed to Gregory on some innate level. The ventilation system was a gentle hum in the background, save for the periodic sound of Olivia turning a page. She sat next to him, engrossed in a thick book of baby names. She leaned over, affording him the barest whiffs of her perfume.

"Listen to this one," she whispered, gesturing to the line she marked with her finger. "Ryan. Gaelic in origin and means 'little king'." She glanced up, an amused expression on her face. "Appropriate for a son of yours, don't you think?"

"Ryan Richards," he said aloud, testing the name and ignoring her quip. "We can do better," he decided after a moment of thought.

She flipped back to the beginning and opened up a random page. "Your turn then."

He took the heavy book from her and made a show of scanning and turning the pages, which made her giggle. She stretched out her legs as he thumbed through the book. Gazing about the waiting room, she eyed the other couple sitting across from her. The other woman looked miserable and pregnant up to her eyeballs. Olivia shifted, uncomfortable by association, and warned her own body against expanding to that size.

"How's this? David?"

Olivia glanced back and sat up. "'Beloved'," she read. "Oh, that's lovely…but we can't." He looked up blankly and she sighed dramatically. "Your nephew? Max and Lorraine's son? There can't be two David's in the family."

"I suppose not," he muttered as he passed the section of D- names without another thought. "Elizabeth? Heather? Laura?"

"I like Laura," she said softly as she leaned her head on his shoulder. "It's a sweet name, don't you think?"

He nodded and wrapped his arm around her, cupping her shoulder lightly. "Still tired?" he asked quietly.

She nodded and let her hand rest on his thigh. "I imagine I'll be tired for a few more months." He chuckled and she glanced up with a smile. "You wouldn't mind if we stayed in bed for the next couple of months, would you?" she asked as she sat forward, arching her back as she stretched.

He watched silently, her perfect breasts jutted out. The tip of his finger danced across the soft flesh of her arm, causing her to shiver. "I think we could manage," he said with a seriousness that caused her toes to curl.

Smiling, she tucked an unruly lock of hair back into the bundle of hair at the back of her head. "Naughty."

"We could have a lot of fun." A brilliant reasoning that lay in the sudden silence between them.

"I'll think about it." Olivia smirked and sat back, threading her hand with Gregory's. The warmth of his hand never ceased to comfort her, but had only drawn her closer. He jiggled their entwined hands teasingly and she glanced over. "I'm still thinking," she answered demurely.

"Take all the time you need," he allowed grandly, rubbing her arm affectionately. She giggled and snuggled against him. "It appears we have all the time in the world."

She rolled her eyes and sighed before glancing up at the receptionist, who seemed hell bent on staring down at the magazine before her. "You'll have to go back to the office if the doctor doesn't see us soon."

He shrugged disinterestedly, squeezing her just a bit closer. "I can take the rest of the afternoon."

"Really?" She sat up quickly, a brilliant smile painted across her face. "You don't have to go back?"

"No," he chuckled, "I don't." Her eyes turned down at his chuckle, a slight discoloring that rose up from her throat to her cheeks. "Have I been neglecting you?" he asked teasingly.

Olivia shook her head, covering his hand with her own. "Of course not, darling. It's just- I-" she trailed off, meeting his dark eyes with her light ones. "I miss you." She broke off abruptly, laughing softly at his stunned expression. "When we were together in California," she explained, "even if it was just for a few hours, you were mine. There were no interruptions, no distractions. It was just us…you and me. And here, it just seems that the world is always trying to get in."

"Why didn't you-"

"Don't be silly. I'm not that needy. It's just something I've learned- sharing you with the rest of the world."

"I didn't realize I was in such demand," he marveled, meriting a look of disbelief from Olivia.

"Of course you did. You're Gregory," she explained, as if that simple two-word statement was the be all and end all way to describe him. "You're important and you've got places to go to and companies to buy. I realize that and it's on days like this that I'm lucky enough to keep you all to myself."

"But Olivia," he said after a long moment of silence, "you've always had that."

It was her turn to shrug, her fingers twisting the silk of his imported tie. "Maybe I'm just a little selfish."

"I can live with that," he said with a mock seriousness that caused her to laugh.

"Something told me you would be able to." She sat back, content with his arm around her and the knowledge that the rest of the afternoon was theirs to share. She drummed her fingers against his thigh, her mind wandering as they sat in a comfortable silence. "I told you I got a gown for the benefit, right?"

"I think you mentioned it once or twice," he teased, causing her to jab him playfully in the ribs.

"Do you know how long it took to find something I could fit into?" His silence and shrug was his answer and she muttered, "Exactly. The gown only makes me look a little pregnant."

He glanced over, stroking her neck softly. "How does one look a little pregnant?"

"Watch and see. And, you should be good at that."

"At what?" he asked.

"Watching," she answered, as if he should have known immediately what she was talking about. "Your name means 'watcher'."

He nodded, the pieces falling into place. "I've got no problems watching you."

"See then? It's quite appropriate." She smiled and leaned against him, rubbing her nose lightly against his.

From across the waiting room, the nurse stood, clearing her throat gently. "Richards? Dr. Mauro is ready to see you."

Olivia smiled in relief as Gregory stood, extending his hand down to her. He pulled her up in one fluid movement, staring into her eyes for a moment. "We're up, kiddo."

* * *

Eleanor softly closed the door to Maxwell's office, leaning against it for a moment. He lounged in the chair, the phone held casually to his ear. He nodded at her as she draped her coat over the back of the chair and took a seat. "Make it so," he said into the phone, swiveling around to face his wife, "and you'll be the better for it." 

She crossed her legs and leaned forward, angling slightly as he ended the call and returned the handset to the receiver. "I didn't think you were coming into the city today," he said as came around the desk. Cupping her shoulders, he leaned down and placed a kiss on her head.

"I had a last minute alteration at Bergdorf's," she explained, following him with her eyes as he walked over to the bar. "For the museum benefit."

"I thought we weren't going to that." He glanced over his shoulder as he poured a splash of club soda into the scotch.

"You declined that invitation, dear. I accepted for _both_ of us." She smiled sweetly as he passed her a crystal glass, sighing deeply. "We attend every year and every year you do this."

He leaned against his desk, his glass tight in his hand. "You'd prefer me to just accept the inevitable, is that it?"

Their glasses clinked together and she eyed him thoughtfully. "It would make things much simpler." She raised her glass to her lips, watching him intently over the rim. "But then again, when have you ever been simple?"

"You didn't marry me for the simple things, Eleanor."

She cocked her head, rolling the heavy glass in her hand. "No, I suppose I didn't," she answered softly, her foot arching to graze his calf lightly. "Besides," she continued, "the boys will be there. We haven't seen them all together since we got back from Palm Beach."

Maxwell sighed. "Fine, Eleanor- we'll go to the benefit."

She smiled broadly, pleased at the outcome. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"It's gets easier with each passing moment." He raised his eyebrow as he took another sip of his scotch and soda. "_All_ the boys?"

"Max and Bill, of course. And Gregory-"

"He will be there, won't he?"

Eleanor nodded, leaning further against the plush leather of the seat. "Yes. Olivia seemed quite excited about the event."

"Have you spoken to her?"

"I stopped over last week." She stood, resting against the desk next to Maxwell. "You do realize how lucky we are with her, don't you? We've seen more of Gregory these past few months than we have since he was a child."

"And you think that's Olivia's doing?"

"Of course it is!" she exclaimed, turning to face her husband defiantly. "Gregory is a completely different person now. He absolutely dotes on Olivia and it's precisely because of her that-" She broke off abruptly, noting the amused grin that ran across her husband's face. "You do this intentionally, don't you?"

He chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and hugging her close. "It's so easy to get you riled up."

"Go to hell," she muttered petulantly, which only caused him to laugh harder.

"No," he sighed, the silk of his wife's blouse rippling beneath his hand, "I fully understand the importance of Olivia in our youngest son's life. She's…good for him."

Smiling softly, Eleanor nudged him gently with her elbow. "She's more than good for him. She's made him whole."

"He's still as stubborn as ever though. He doesn't want my help in getting this business with George Burkhardt settled."

"Gregory's always been so independent."

Maxwell frowned and stepped away, his hands deep in his pockets. "It's stubbornness," he insisted. "He's got too much Richards in him."

It was Eleanor's turn to laugh, coming up behind her husband and locking her arms around his waist. "Imagine that: a son of yours that was stubborn." She rested her head on his shoulder. "He won't rest until Olivia's divorce is finalized- and neither will she. It's their life. Let them handle it."

He sighed softly in resignation and patted his wife's hand. "Alright, Eleanor."


	60. The Glorious Revelation

(See first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc).

Chapter 60: "The Glorious Revelation"

"Royce is downstairs with the car."

Olivia looked up, sneaking a peek at him in the mirror's reflection. Gregory stood next to her in the bathroom, the strong light bouncing off his crisp white shirt. Her slender hand fell, clipping the diamond and pearl earring to her lobe. She turned and watched openly as his hands nimbly twisted the black tie into a neat bow. "I'm ready," she said softly as he turned to her, allowing her to make the last adjustment to his bow tie.

"Are you sure?"

She smiled, resting her palms on his chest. "I think so."

He stared into her eyes, noting the way they drew color from the silk of her gown. "You look lovely," he whispered, coaxing a wider smile from her.

"Thank you." She pursed her lips, her face wrinkling in thought as she took her small clutch from his extended hand. "And, I was wrong. This gown doesn't make me look a little pregnant- it makes me look _a lot _pregnant."

He couldn't help but chuckle as he walked her out of the apartment and down the hall. "Is that so bad?"

"Of course not," she insisted. Leaning against the wall, she watched him press the down button. "But it's a…change."

"Without change," he intoned grandly, "we would be boring."

She eyed him for a long moment, his expression as serious as stone. But she saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes and couldn't resist teasing back. "Darling, with you around, boring isn't even a possibility."

"Well, I do try." He reached out, tracing the beaded strap up to the base of her neck. His fingers lingered there for a long moment, watching as she stepped closer. She lifted her face, partially cloaked by the shadows of the dimly lit hall.

His face was inches from hers, their lips brushing gently. She smiled softly as his hands slid over her bare shoulder blades. "We'll be late," she whispered.

The firmness of her expanding stomach was the only thing preventing Gregory from crushing her to him the way he longed to do. So he settled for encompassing his arms about her waist as her arms hung around his neck. "We'll be _fashionably_ late," he corrected, nuzzling the arch of her neck.

She bit back a gasp as his lips went to work, teasing and caressing her skin. "We already are fashionably late," she giggled as he gently pushed her against the wall. Her lips parted as his hands tightened slightly on her hips. "Darling," she gasped as his tongue darted out, "I'm all dressed up."

"I'd prefer you undressed. Can I tempt you into staying in tonight?" His hands traveled up the hyacinth blue silk that hugged the newfound curves of her body. She shivered, a slight tremor that caused him to grin. "Hmm?"

The nearness of his lips gave Olivia pause and she couldn't help but gaze up at him in silence. Lust simmered deep in his eyes, shooting right to the core of her being. She hadn't been able to resist him since the moment she met him. Neither would deny themselves that glorious indulgence. She cocked her head, giving him easier access to her neck. "We can just make a brief appearance," she sighed as his teeth grazed the flesh of her neck lightly. "An hour or two at the most."

He pulled back reluctantly, a dejected sigh filling the expanse of the quiet hallway. "The longest two hours of my life."

* * *

Lorraine Richards narrowed her eyes and knocked back the rest of her champagne. Her husband droned on aimlessly beside her, the hum of conversation washing over her as the bubbly ran down her throat. She had been listening to Max hold the same conversation for the last fifteen years. The only thing that had changed was the person on the receiving end of his repetitious digressions. 

She sidestepped a waiter, the tray of champagne flutes held above his head as he navigated the _Great Hall_. Soft light glowed against the walls, illuminating the archways that looked down from the balcony. The strains of chamber music stirred the air, floating above the crowd where it swirled into an echo at the hollow of the dome.

It was the same benefit that she always attended, year after year. A never-ending flow of cocktails, hors d'oeuvres aplenty. She leaned against a marble column, the smooth surface cooling her bare back. Face after face passed before her, sparking a flicker of recognition until one blurred into the next.

Raucous laughter caught her attention and she looked up, blinking at the noise. Her husband's circle had grown, chuckling heartily. At least he'd done something right tonight. She glanced at the crowd, realizing that the sight of Gregory signaled the presence of-

"Lorraine?" She turned to the voice, soft laughter from the crowd interrupting her thoughts. "You look a thousand miles away," Olivia continued as she touched her arm.

She smiled apologetically, pushing away from the column to face her future sister-in-law on her own merits. "You've been to one of these benefits, you've been to them all."

With a conspiratorial nod, Olivia's eyes swept over the crowd. "I'm sure I'll be saying the same thing next year."

Lorraine watched her quietly, the way her body swayed gently in time with the music. The rosy glow and soft smile that Olivia held were impossible to miss and she couldn't deny the pang of jealousy. The earnest delight that she possessed was something that had been missing in her own life for many years.

Olivia glanced over, feeling the other woman's eyes on her. "Is everything alright?"

"Just thinking." She smiled, tilting her head in reminiscent thought. "Things have changed a lot since this time last year. For the better, of course," she added.

She smiled in agreement, resting her hand lightly on her stomach. "Let's hope things are even better next year." She watched quietly as Lorraine took another champagne from a passing waiter and finished it in one long gulp. "Are you sure nothing's the matter?"

Lorraine grimaced as dropped the empty flute onto another circulating tray, ignoring the question. "I'm going to need something stronger." Seeing Olivia's eyes warm with concern, she shook her head and explained, "Anything to pass the time."

She left Olivia, turning on her heel and heading for the bar. She pushed through the throng of people, willing herself away from the slope of runaway thoughts and to the safety of the bar. And to think that she and the rest of the family had been convinced Gregory would live out his life as a bachelor with a string of meaningless girlfriends. He would probably end up being the one most satisfied with his life.

* * *

It was in the _Greek & Roman _wing that Julianna first spotted her. 

Despite all of the different conversations melding together into a dull roar, the sound of a familiar laughter managed to echo across the gallery. She glanced up sharply, ears perked as she drifted away from her companion. He barely noticed the absence of her presence and stepped closer to the docent, who was enthusiastically gesturing towards bronze statue.

The heavy brocade gown swept over the floor as her eyes searched the room. Marble statues and busts ornamented the room, some of the best from classical antiquity. She stepped into the pool of light illuminating the bust of Augustus when she finally saw her. Olivia's back was to her as she stood in a small circle near another bust, but she'd know the familiar stance anywhere. It was the moment she had waited for since thrusting herself into Manhattan's high society. Discounting her brush with Eleanor several weeks ago, she had failed to encounter any of the Richards on her nights out. Until now…

She sucked in her breath, her fingers twitching beneath the satin opera gloves. She could taste the anticipation on her lips, urging her on as she circled the bust the way the earth navigated the sun. But it was not Augustus that held her rapt attention. Olivia stood with a group of women, blissfully unaware of the predator tracking her every smile, her every laugh. In fact, the more she stared, the more she didn't recognize the woman standing across the gallery.

Julianna never broke her steady gaze, ignoring the revelry around her. It faded to the wayside as she scrutinized Olivia, trying to pinpoint just what it was that was so different about her. Her blue eyes were bright, dark hair pulled back from her face against rosy cheeks. Her hands danced in the air, animated as she related a story to the small group surrounding her. The ring on her finger flashed as it caught the light, her hand falling to her waist.

There are moments in life when the stars align and the bits of clarity reveal themselves. The errant pieces of reasoning come together like a puzzle, snapping neatly into place. Like Moses parting the Red Sea, the crowd surrounding Olivia separated in a rippling wave. The delicate silk of her gown fell in folds around her, gently caressing the newly swollen stomach her hand rested upon.

She watched in stunned silence as Olivia left her circle of friends, carefree ease in her step. Her eyes watched her leave the gallery and her feet followed her a moment later. Heels clicking across the marble floor, her eyes burned holes into Olivia's bare back. Static hummed in her head as her satin gloves followed the ball of her fists. The roundness of her stomach was a knife to her gut, cruelly twisting inward. "Everything, it appears," she spat out bitterly, "was not enough."

* * *

"Penny for your thoughts?" 

Gregory barely reacted as a pair of arms went around him and a chin rested on his shoulder. "Only a penny?"

"It'll have to do. My purse can't hold much else." Olivia smiled as he turned his back on the fountain, amusement plain on his face. "What?" she giggled.

"It can't hold a watch either." Her slender hand fit snugly within his, fingers kneading the soft flesh of her bare wrist. " 'An hour or two at the most'," he reminded her softly as he pulled her gently to him, "was more than an hour ago."

She grinned guiltily as his hands aimlessly traveled the expanse of her bare arm. "A watch doesn't exactly go with my gown, darling."

He chuckled and she looked back at him, grinning wider. "I suppose, then, that I can forgive you."

"That's rather big of you," she teased, locking arms with him as they strolled through the _Great Hall_.

"Ah, it's the least I can do," he said softly as he took her in his arms. The chamber music of earlier had segued into songbook standards, opening the dance floor in waves.

They glided across the parquet in silence, nestled amongst the crowd and the cocoon of music. She sighed, echoes of contentment stirring in her chest as she leaned into him. His hand trailed her bare back and she met his eyes. "We'll leave in a bit," she promised softly.

He shrugged, threading his fingers tightly with hers. "I don't know," he mused. "There's something to be said for dancing the night away with you in my arms."

Her face melted with his words, gripping his hand a bit tighter. "And just when I think that you've said all the wonderful things to me…"

Chuckling, he spun them deeper into the crowd, their entwined hands resting over his heart. "It wouldn't be fair to dole them out all at once, would it?"

"Hmm, I suppose not." Her fingers danced across the back of his neck, skimming just below his hairline. "And you know how much I love to dance."

"I may have heard something about that." He watched as she craned her neck, looking around the room. "What are you looking for?"

"Not what, _whom_. There was a little man walking around with a tray of shrimp before."

Biting back a grin, he managed to ask, "Hungry…again?" She swat his shoulder lightly and he finally laughed. Leaving the dance floor, he guided her into a seat at one of the dozens of dime-sized tables set up for the event. "I'll be back," he promised, his hands resting lightly on her bare shoulders.

She grabbed his hand as he started to walk away and pulled him back. "With the shrimp?"

"You have to ask?" He bent down, kissing her lips softly.

Cupping his face, she smiled gently. "No, but it does keep you here a moment longer."

* * *

From three tables away, Julianna watched Gregory pull back and leave Olivia sitting alone at the table. Her eyes hardened, glowing angry fire as she watched her sit back, hands folded sedately on the crest of her stomach. Flaunting it for all to see. As if it wasn't embarrassing enough that she deserted AJ. Now proof of her assignation was on display in celebration. 

She set her glass down on the table with a heavy clink and stood tall in one fluid motion. The space between the two tables disintegrated and it was with a measure of satisfaction that she put her hand grimly on Olivia's shoulder.

The younger woman flinched and looked up, her blue eyes widening slightly. "Julianna." She stood quickly as the other woman's hand fell from her. "You're in New York?"

"For several weeks now," she said dismissively, looking her appraisingly up and down. "My how you've…_changed_."

Olivia cocked her head, peeking down at the most noticeable change. When she looked back up, she saw that Julianna was still fixated on her stomach. She cleared her throat and glanced around for Gregory.

Julianna took a step closer, her eyes slowly rising to meet Olivia's. "It's rather incredible that such a small thing can beget such destruction."

"Destruction?" She was barely able to keep the pitch of her voice from rising, her hand locking around the back of her chair as she took a step away from Julianna.

"Something is destroyed, something is born. It's the way of nature."

"Nothing was destroyed that was never meant to be," Olivia snapped, anger flushing in her neck.

A smirk was her only response. Her eyes continued to rove over Olivia's face, unnerving her with their steadiness. "Perhaps," she said softly after a long moment. "Or perhaps not." She reached out, placing her hand lightly on Olivia's pregnant stomach. Ignoring the way the other woman's face contorted, she continued, "Perhaps the real destruction has yet to begin."

Grabbing the intrusive hand, Olivia flung it away, disgust rolling off her in waves. "Go to hell," she hissed. She spun on her heel, stalking away as Julianna's unbridled laughter echoed in her ears.

As the stares of other partygoers descended on her like locusts, she ignored them and continued to laugh. Taking a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, she downed it merrily after muttering, "Here's to destruction." Chuckling, she left the empty flute on her table, reinvigorated by her recent encounter.

And to think that she nearly declined the tonight's invitation.

* * *

With the plate of shrimp in his hand but no Olivia at the table he left her at, Gregory made his way back through the smaller galleries. Room after room filled with countless objets d'art, but no Olivia. He stopped in the middle of the main gallery and turned slowly, looking past the crowds for the one he sought. 

It was in the last gallery he looked in that he found her. Her arms were crossed tight in front of her and she was glaring at the bronze statue before her.

He stood at her side, glancing at the small plaque as he held the plate at to her. "Not a fan of Eros?" She shook her head firmly, not looking at him and ignoring the offering. He looked closer, noting the way her brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head again, finally looking up at him. "Can we leave?"

"Of course," he said, shoving the plate of shrimp onto a nearby bench. "What happened?"

She sighed, failing to swallow past the rock of anger lodged in her throat. His arm went around her, rubbing her arm comfortingly. "Just tired," she lied, summoning the closest thing to a smile that she could.

He stopped suddenly, turning her to him. "No, you're not. You're upset. What happened?" he asked for the third time. He stopped her as began to look away, lifting her chin with the crook of his finger. He took her hand, running his finger of the angry red imprints her nails left in her palm. "Liv…"

She shrugged, relaxing against the calm of her own hand in his. "I ran into Julianna," she explained flatly. "It wasn't pleasant. Now can we go?"

They walked through the _Great Hall _in a stilted silence, their linked arms the only thing binding them together. A light mist fell from the sky when they stepped outdoors, catching in the spotlights illuminating the massive stone columns. The oversize banners advertising the evening's benefit flapped in the night breeze.

After the parking attendant ran down 5th Avenue to get their car, Olivia turned to him. Gregory stood by her side, glaring at the nighttime traffic with his jaw clenched tight. She frowned, stepping closer to him. She wrapped her arm around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder as she leaned against him. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He kissed her forehead softly, his arm again cloaking her slender frame. "I'm not upset," he said softly.

"It's just-," she began, twisting the edge of his lapel with her fingers. "Oh darling," she sighed, "she put her hand on my stomach." She shuddered, the feeling of repulsion again washing over her.

He held her closer as their car pulled up, Royce jumping out to open the door. "You're alright," he whispered comfortingly as he deposited her in the back seat. She smiled weakly and slid over on the seat. The door closed resoundingly after him, sealing them in the safety of the backseat.

She nestled against him, sighing in relief as he placed her hand on her stomach and covered it with his own. "Just a bit longer," he whispered confidently in her ear, his breath tickling her earlobe, "and then it'll all be over."

"I hope so." She closed her eyes as he placed a soft kiss on the side of her head. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."


	61. Trey's 14th Birthday

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 61: "Trey's 14th Birthday"

With a burst of sudden speed, the black Porsche sped out of the Midtown Tunnel, deposited on the opposite bank of the East River. Creamy white clouds dotted the powder blue sky, a pleasant counterpoint from the murky depths of the river they left behind. Such was the way of life- for everything beautiful, there was something not.

Olivia sighed, leaning back against the leather seat. The turbo charged engine hummed, lulling her into the sweet calm of slumber. Sunlight warmed the car, soaking into the black leather. She sighed and reached over, covering Gregory's hand with hers.

"Hmm?"

She glanced over, watching him for a moment. Wind rushed in through the open window, rustling his hair. "Nothing," she said softly, squeezing his hand gently.

"Things aren't just 'nothing' with you." He glanced over quickly, tossing a wink in her direction.

"Well, when you put it like that…," she sniffed. He laughed aloud, a deep chuckle that rang out in the confined interior of the car. She giggled, angling in the bucket seat to face him.

"And what's that, exactly?"

"Too much." He laughed again and she frowned, tapping the top of his hand with her finger. "What?"

"The day that you're too much is the day the Dow breaks 10,000."

She rolled her eyes, sitting forward to stare at the open expanse of the highway before them. "_You're_ too much," she mumbled, despite the amused smile that softened her face.

"Well, that maybe," he allowed her, pressing the accelerator down as he broke away from the pack. "But at least it made you smile."

She bit her lip and looked away, to the buildings streaking past as they sped up the Long Island Expressway to Oyster Bay. "Yes, it did," she said softly, resting her hand on her stomach and chasing away the phantom hands that pressed into the gauzy fabric of her dress.

* * *

Julianna stepped off the private plane, breathing in deeply. Fresh salty air filled her nostrils, a harbinger of the Pacific. She blinked and shaded her eyes, the sun shining bright in the blue sky above. With a testy sigh, she stepped off the plane and ignored the words of the pilot as she passed him.

The driver jumped out of the idling limousine, fumbling to open the door to the back seat. However, she brushed passed him with nary a word as well. He closed the door after she slid in and leaned back against the car for a moment, wiping his brow nervously.

She sat in silence, the sound of the air conditioning blowing out of the vents. Her hair stirred, wisps blowing lightly in the cool breeze. She rapped on the window, causing the driver to jump into action. His nervous jerky movements were a cause to smirk as he collapsed into the driver's seat, stammering apologies. A short moment later, the limousine drove slowly off the runway.

The driver nervously glanced up in the rear view mirror at this passenger. She sat stoically straight, her face turned to the window. Sunlight fell in through the tinted glass, warming her blonde hair to a golden halo. He turned back to the road, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. He could not help but remember his childhood catechism classes. Some halos tarnished on the heads of fallen angels.

He jumped when she spoke, a softness that rang out in the cool interior of the car. "Alice wasn't prepared for what she found in the looking glass," she said with a tinge of distraction in her voice. She waited until his eyes turned back to the mirror before she faced him. "Are you?"

He swallowed nervously, shaking his head as the car slowed to a stop. The silence was maddening, save for the pounding of his heart against his ribs. The busy intersection fell on blind eyes and his chest shook as he exhaled. Her eyes flashed as she gazed steadily into his eyes in the reflection.

"Well?"

He shook his head quickly, more to reassure himself than answer her question. "N-No, ma'am."

The corner of Julianna's mouth curled to an unruly smirk and she tilted her head in mock deference. "Pity," she sighed breathily as she pressed her finger to the button that caused the privacy divider to rise.

* * *

Though Gregory laughed and denied it, Olivia could not help but find the similarities between the Richards and the Larrabee's. "It's ridiculous," he insisted, navigating the Porsche up the tree-lined driveway.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, leaning as close to him as the seatbelt would allow. "The more you deny it, the more I know I'm right," she whispered in his ear. "And you know it too."

He shook his head and glanced over, amusement lighting up his eyes. "I admit to nothing."

Olivia laughed. "Of course not," she teased. The car jerked to a stop and she watched as he stood tall, the sunlight glistening on his forearms. She smiled as he pulled open her door and extended his hand.

"So, which one does that make me?" he asked nonchalantly as she climbed out, the pebbles of the driveway crunching beneath her feet.

"So you _are_ interested in my little theory."

"As loony as it is," he muttered as she leaned back against the gleaming car.

She smiled knowingly, tantalizing him with her unspoken words. "You, my darling, are without a doubt the 'serious-and-gruff-on-the-outside-but-lovable-and-romantic-on-the-inside' brother, Linus."

Gregory frowned as she linked her arm with his. "Linus?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed, her animation increasing a notch. "The quiet hero. The one who'd give it all up for the woman that captured his heart." She stopped and turned to him, her quiet smile silencing him for a moment. "The one whose love sneaks up on you until you can't remember a world without it."

He found her hand, drawing her closer. The sound of chirping birds dulled to a whisper as he grazed her cheek, his fingers moving softly over her flesh. "Quiet hero, hmm?"

She nodded, any vocal response silenced by the meshing of their lips. The gentle kiss spoke volumes and she broke away, smiling softly. "_My_ hero," she murmured, squeezing his hand softly.

Sighing, he nuzzled his face against the fragrant succulence of her neck. "You make it easy."

She chuckled and looked up, the blue of her eyes twinkling in the spring afternoon. "You certainly know what to say to melt a girl's heart."

"Not any girl. Just you."

She smiled and leaned into him as the front door swung open. "It's about time," Bill muttered and they turned in surprise. "Apparently, nothing can start until you two arrive."

Olivia grinned with mock guilt at Gregory before crossing the threshold. "Sorry to hold you up, Bill," she said sweetly, kissing his cheek lightly.

Both watched her saunter down the hall, her long hair swinging down her back with each step. Bill poked his younger brother in the arm playfully, smirking earnestly. " 'Sorry to hold you up'," he mimicked, assuming a high pitch that barely resembled Olivia's inflection. "These women…they've got us wrapped around their little finger."

Scoffing, Gregory reached for the pocket on the inside of his jacket. "And don't pretend that you don't love every minute," he said, placing a slim envelope amongst the rest of the presents on the large table in the center of the foyer.

"I've yet to complain." They stared at the antique table for a moment, the rich cherry wood dwarfed by the overflow of gifts wrapped in shiny paper. "Almost hard to believe the kid is fourteen today. Do you remember how nervous Max was when he was born?"

He nodded, thinking back. He had been younger than his nephew's present age, barely into his teenage years. "I was bored out of my mind," he admitted, the shadow of a reminiscent smile on his lips. "Mother dragged me to the hospital with her and the only place I wanted to be was on the water with my skiff."

Bill chuckled, remembering his younger brother's bored scowl while the rest of the adults paced the waiting room. "And then your opinion about the nickname bestowed on the newly born Maxwell Richards, III. '_Trey? What a stupid name_.' I thought Mother was going to have a heart attack," he laughed.

"I still think it's a stupid nickname," he grumbled, frowning at the name inked in Olivia's flowing penmanship on the face of the envelope.

"You and Olivia decide on a name yet?"

Gregory shrugged mysteriously. "We're undecided on a girl's name, but Olivia likes Christopher for a boy."

"After Granddad? Mother will like that." Laughter pealed through the foyer, rolling across the imported Italian marble. Bill glanced over and cocked his head in the direction of the sound. "But she'll never forgive us if we stay indoors much longer."

Their footsteps begot an echo as they walked down the hallway, a mix of voices growing louder as they reached the patio. The enormous French doors were flung open, the sound of the garden party carried on the tails of the breeze. The late May sun intensified the colors in Eleanor's rose garden, the one that grew over what was once the inground pool.

A young girl in a flowing yellow sundress skipped over to them, tugging anxiously on Gregory's arm. "Hi, Uncle Gregory!" she exclaimed breathlessly, brushing a flyaway piece of hair from her eyes as Bill wandered away.

Gregory crouched to his niece's level, his entire hand wrapping around her tiny wrist. "Do I know you?"

Greer frowned and placed her hands on both his cheeks. "Uncle Gregory," Greer said sternly, shaking his head slightly for emphasis, "that's a _baby_ game." She sighed, gazing at him pitifully. "I'm _practically_ an adult now that I'm eleven."

He stood as she skipped away and recognized the sound of Olivia's snicker. A moment later, her arm was around his waist and he turned to her. "She liked that joke when she was five," he explained simply.

Swallowing back another giggle, Olivia cleared her throat and patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Little girls grow up, darling."

"Apparently," he deadpanned as they drifted over to the large gathering of his immediate and extended family.

* * *

Del stretched lazily on the deck chair, the midday sun beating down on his nearly bronze body. Waves crashed into the beach that was just off his patio, white foam that bubbled over the sand before rushing away again. The strains of a top 40 station droned out of the stereo speakers, fading into the background as his eyes narrowed and his mind darkened.

A sharp prod to his foot startled him a moment later. He jumped up, wiping away the trail of drool that made its way down his chin. "What the hell?" he swore, shielding his sleepy eyes from the strong sun.

"Good afternoon to you too, Mr. Douglas."

His stomach flipped and his heart leapt into his throat. The abrupt greeting and the clipped voice sent ice through his veins. "Miz Deschanel…it's been awhile."

Her lips curled, resembling a smile that made him shudder. "Too long," she said with a mock pleasantness. "I see that you're living out your dream." She looked down, nudging the mountain of empty beer bottles with her foot. "How fulfilled you must be."

He leaned back in the lounge chair, resting his arms behind his head. "I'm on my way," he answered, struggling to retain an air of calmness.

"I see." She sighed and looked up, frowning at the sun's glare. "Step inside," she ordered over her shoulder as entered his house.

With a sigh, he pushed himself up to his full height, the only intimidating factor in his favor. He followed her indoors, wincing at the remnants of last night's party. It was at that moment, in the harsh reality of daylight and ever aware of Julianna's critical eye, he realized the dump that his exclusive beach house had become.

"It has…_possibilities_," Julianna grimaced as she glanced around, sidestepping a puddle of some unidentifiable lumpy substance. She removed her sunglasses, folding them into her leather handbag as she turned back to him. "I have a little job I'd like you to perform."

He chuckled ruefully as he shrugged into a terry cloth robe. "Job, huh? Well, I don't know. A lot's changed in the few weeks since you've been gone."

"Such as?"

"I've entered the twilight of my life and retired," Del explained, leaning slightly as he pulled a rumpled week old newspaper from under him. He propped his bare feet on the coffee table and flashed a wide grin. "I'm living the carefree life of a king," he exclaimed, gesturing with arms wide open. "Why would I want to take on job?"

She knocked his legs off the table with a swift kick, his feet hitting the ground with a thud. "Because unlike lollygagging around this black hole, I can make it worth your while." His ears perked up and she knew she had him.

He sat, barely able to hide his eagerness. "How worthwhile?

"_Extremely_." She pursed her lips, tapping the toe of her foot impatiently as she reached into her handbag. She tossed a thick envelope at him, smirking at his knee jerk reaction when it landed in his lap.

He picked the envelope, marveling at the heft of it in his hand. It was twice the weight of the last envelope she bestowed on him. With a loving pat, he set the envelope aside and sat up. "What can I do for you?"

* * *

The lazy afternoon had segued into an upbeat evening on the North Shore. As throng's of teenagers arrived for Trey's party, the adults moved indoors. Loud music and sounds from the party came together in a cacophony that grated the nerves. Eleanor jokingly offered to pass out earplugs to anyone in need of them.

Olivia found minor refuge in the library. Despite the slight vibrations from the synthesized music, there was a comforting silence amongst the leather bound books and overstuffed sofas. Nevertheless, it was not the books but the dozens of photos encased in antique frames scattered around the shelves and tabletops that held her attention.

She moved from photo to photo, her blue eyes moving over the moments frozen in time. She lingered on one of Gregory when he couldn't have been more than four or five. He gazed steadily at the camera, not even the hint of a smile on his lips.

"He was always serious, even as a child."

She turned to Eleanor, frame in hand. "That doesn't exactly surprise me."

Eleanor smiled and gently turned the photo in her direction. "He has his father's temperament and my father's looks." She turned it back to Olivia, who returned it to the shelf. "Quite the combination."

"This is you, isn't it?" Olivia asked, gesturing to a large portrait of a young woman in satin and lace, swathed in a long veil.

She nodded. "I was practically a baby when I married Maxwell," she said softly, plucking the frame to examine it closer. "Nearly two years to the day after my coming out ball. Hardly ready for any of the responsibilities that came with marriage." Setting the frame back on the bookshelf, she added almost as an afterthought, "You probably didn't know that Maxwell and I were guests at your wedding."

Olivia blanched noticeably, her hand frozen above the next frame she sought. "No, I didn't."

"Understandable. There were quite a few guests present."

"Just a few hundred of our closest friends," she muttered, a measure of contempt evident in her voice. She turned back to Eleanor, the pain of regret flashing in her sapphire eyes. "You knew who I was that first night at the opera, didn't you?"

Eleanor shrugged as she sank down into the leather club chair and gestured for Olivia to do the same. "I've always had a good memory for faces," she explained, crossing one leg over the other. "It's a gift that Maxwell was not blessed with, so I make up for it." The other woman fidgeted uncomfortably and she could see her wrestling with something unspoken. "Ask your question."

Olivia frowned and asked with a painstaking steadiness, "What did you think of me? When you first saw me at the wedding, I mean."

"I thought that you were an absolutely terrified young woman." She paused, her mouth drawn in a straight line as she thought back. "And," she continued softly a moment later, "you looked like you realized at the last possible moment that you were in over your head."

"Damn," Olivia sighed. "I always thought that I had done a rather good job hiding all that."

"Anybody who really looked at you would've realized the truth." She cocked her head, fingering the strand of ivory pearls around her neck. "We all make mistakes," she said gently as she watched the way Olivia's face contorted. "The trick is having the strength to correct them and move on. You've already done that."

She frowned, curling a lock of hair lazily around her finger. "It's hard to move on when your mistakes won't let you." She locked eyes with Eleanor, her face wrinkling. "I saw Julianna at the museum benefit last week. She's living in New York now."

Forcing a look of surprise, Eleanor sat up and leaned in closer. "Is that so?"

Olivia nodded and shook her head. "I don't want to talk about any of this tonight." She smiled brightly and stood. "This is supposed to be a party."

* * *

Julianna stood before him, looking down on him the way a king regarded his subjects. "I will need you to contact our friend." Del's confused expression irritated her and she snapped, "From last autumn who visited us before he went to England."

"Mickey Donahue," Del mumbled, involuntarily shuddering as he thought of the man's hollow eyes.

"Precisely. Find him. Arrange for him to come to New York City." She turned and walked to the front door, her heels clicking on the hard wood.

* * *

Letting the subject drop for now, Eleanor stood as well and linked her arm through Olivia's arm. "A party it is indeed. I don't know how I let Max and Lorraine talk me into having the party here but next time-"

Olivia gasped and stopped short, her hand pressed into her stomach.

* * *

"What should I tell him?" Del called out when her hand was on the doorknob. "About the job?"

She turned slowly to him, her eyes as hard as ice. "Let him know that he'll be exterminating a pest problem that I have."

* * *

"Oh my god!" Olivia gasped.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter," she answered, laughter creeping into her voice. She grabbed Eleanor's hand, pressing it into her stomach. "I think I just felt the baby." She turned to the older woman, her face lit up with excitement.

* * *

Del nodded, doubt rising in his throat. Then he felt for the envelope stuffed with money and forced the creeping feeling away. "I'll make sure he understands."

Julianna nodded, sliding the sunglasses back onto her face. "And make sure he knows that it'll be an extended stay that he's in for. I want no complications. Failure is unacceptable."

* * *

"Are you sure?" Eleanor asked, regrettably not feeling anything.

"Yes. A little twinge, like a wave." She began laughing, infectiously causing Eleanor to smile. "There it is again, over here now." She repositioned Eleanor's hand and looked up at her, a wide smile stretching across her face. "I can _really_ feel him."


	62. I Do

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 62: "I Do"

Gregory's feet pounded on the pavement with a resounding smack as he ran deeper into Central Park. The rising sun was still light in the sky, barely making a dent in the unseasonable mugginess. A stickiness hung over the early morning, the air so thick that one would swear they could cut it themselves.

It was the time of day when Gregory enjoyed the park most. It was here that it was actually possible to see the sky, the landscape free from the towering skyscrapers that shrank the sky to a dot of blue when you looked up. Few were out at this hour, save for other joggers and the occasional taxi that cruised the Park Drives. In a few hours it would fill up, tourists and the native city dwellers alike.

Nevertheless, for now it was deserted and at the most peaceful it would be for the rest of the day. The famous Carousel stood forlornly to his left, empty and covered with a thin sheen of dew. He looked straight ahead and charged on, bypassing the last pair of joggers until he was alone on the road.

As he followed the loop around the south end of the park, he grew less aware of his surroundings. The only thought on his mind was the next step he would take and the next one until he was back at the park entrance.

So focused was he on his run that he barely noticed the limousine slow to a crawl beside him. The windows were washed out with a tint that resembled the midnight sky and the engine was barely a hum in the early morning. After a few moments, it accelerated and drove off, the red taillights disappearing around the slight bend.

"Well?"

Mickey Donahue nodded as he slid down the butter soft leather, sprawling out on the seat. "Good enough," he sighed, shoving his hand down his front pocket. He shrugged and glanced behind him, watching as Gregory ran back into sight. "And the woman?"

Julianna nodded, reaching into her handbag. "I'll arrange for you to see her later. This should suffice for now," she said, passing him a glossy 5x7. "It's an older picture and her hair is longer, but that's her."

He took the picture from her, studying it intently. "Shame to waste something so pretty."

"There is one additional matter."

He looked up, seeing his own reflection in the lenses of Julianna's dark sunglasses. "You havin' second thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Hardly." She leaned closer to him, her voice barely above a whisper. "She's five months into her pregnancy." His eyes turned down to the picture and she sat back against the seat. "Is that going to be a problem?"

His finger traced the outline of the face in the picture. After a long silent moment, he tucked the photo inside his pocket. "Like I said before," he said slowly, his eyes turning up to hers, "it's a shame to waste something so pretty."

* * *

Gregory's voice roused Olivia, his irritation encroaching on her slumber. She blinked sleepily, swallowing back a yawn as she pushed herself up. Rubbing her eyes, she leaned back against the headboard, waiting for the slight dizziness to pass. She threw back the covers, tentatively swinging her legs off the mattress and sliding her feet into the slippers beside the bed. With a sigh, she pushed herself off the bed and shuffled over to the bathroom.

She left the bathroom a few minutes later, refreshed but slow moving and shrugged into the robe laid across the foot of the bed. Shuffling down the long hallway, Gregory's voice grew louder as she passed through the swinging door and into the kitchen. She found him standing at the counter with the phone glued to his ear and half a dozen newspapers scattered across the countertop.

Her fingertips grazed his back as she passed him, a silent greeting before she grabbed a spoon from the drawer and a pint of ice cream from the freezer. He frowned as she took a seat at the small kitchen table, propping her feet on the chair next to her as she opened the carton.

"Unacceptable," he ordered into the phone, switching the handset to look at his watch. "Wall Street opens in ninety minutes. I want you on those shares the second that bell is rung."

"Problems?" she asked after he slammed the phone down.

"The merger," he explained crossly, gathering the newspapers into a messy stack. "You're up early."

She shrugged, pulling the spoon slowly from her mouth. "I had to get up."

Gregory stood behind her a moment later, resting his hands on her shoulders. "You're a terrible liar, Liv." He kissed her head softly and whispered in her ear, "I woke you."

She reached up and patted his cheek softly. "I'm sure you'll make it up to me."

He chuckled and squeezed her shoulders lightly, the fine silk smooth beneath his hands. "I'll let you eat your ice cream for breakfast." He shook his head and picked up his suit coat from the back of the chair. "I still can't believe you're eating that at this hour."

She shrugged and stood up, following him out of the kitchen and into the foyer. "It's the only thing I want."

He glanced down at the open pint of orange cream ice cream and shook his head. "I'm taking you _out_ for dinner tonight," he decided as he opened the door. "To a place where ice cream is only on the dessert menu."

"All right," she sighed glumly as he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"I've got to get downtown for an early meeting," he explained. "I'll call you later."

Olivia stood in the open doorway, leaning against the wooden doorjamb. "Gregory?" she called.

He was half way down the hallway, but he turned around at the sound of her voice. "What?"

She glanced at the floor, nudging the briefcase he left behind with her bare foot. He came back for it, grasping her hand as he asked, "What would I do without you?"

"Forget your briefcase," she deadpanned as he pulled her close.

* * *

Julianna sat at the head of the conference table, her eyes skimming the proposal before her. Half a dozen men sat around the table, some watching patiently, some not so. The deafening silence was shattered by the sound of one of the men clearing his throat pointedly. Her eyebrow rose into an arch as she turned the heavy page slowly and concentrated on the black type. She smiled inwardly, relishing the silent impatience that blanketed the room.

When she reached the last page, she sat up and closed the bound proposal. "Well gentleman," she said, sliding the document across the table's glossy varnish, "for once, you've done your homework."

A collective sigh rippled through the room and one of the men leaned in closer. "We're glad you agree with our assessment," he began, only to be cut off by Julianna's hand.

"To an extent." She leaned back grandly in the armchair, folding her hands and crossing her legs. "I agree with your conclusion that this would be a fruitful and beneficial investment for _Deschanel Shipping_." She looked around the table, into the eyes of the men seated around it. "I want the shares. And, I will have them."

They exchanged glances and one cleared his throat before speaking up. "Mrs. Deschanel, we prepared the proposal at your request, as we would have done had Mr. Deschanel asked for it." He charged forward, his words twisting down a slippery slope. "But Mr. Deschanel also would have valued our counsel and at the very least would have listened-"

Julianna rolled her eyes, turning her chair away from the table dismissively. "_Would have done this, would have done that_," she mimicked, the contempt rising in her voice. "You sound like a sniveling child. You are relieved of your responsibilities. _All_ of you," she said with a deadly calm that dared anyone to challenge her, "except Mr. Kerry."

Kerry sat smugly as the others stood, rumblings of discontent in their wake. When the door closed behind the last of them, he turned to Julianna expectantly. "Well," he said slowly, "you've got me where you want me."

She chuckled softly as she took the seat next to him. "Not quite," she said lightly, her foot stroking the fullness of his calf. He looked up slowly, gazing into her eyes with an unwavering steadiness. "Make this deal happen," she whispered as her hand crept up his thigh, caressing his flesh with a purpose.

He sighed, her hand slowly following the curve of his thigh to the valley between his legs. "It means putting up substantial capitol."

"We have it," she argued as his eyes narrowed.

"We don't." Kerry abruptly knocked her hand away and sat up. "The sun is beginning to set _Deschanel Shipping's _golden age."

She glanced at the closed door the other board members left through and turned back to him. "You shouldn't invest in their hysterics."

"It's not all hysterics." He pulled out a document and held it up for her to see. "This is a projection of this quarter's profits." His finger followed the dynamic line and she was displeased to see it follow a downward slope. "If things continue this way, next quarter looks even worse."

"I never took you to be an alarmist."

"You're two years to late for this investment." He shook his head and set the document aside. "Since Armando passed, our friends have lost…"

"Lost what?" Julianna snapped when he trailed off into silence.

Kerry balked noticeably for a moment before continuing, "They've lost their faith in all that this company stood for."

She sighed irritably and crossed her arms. "Even from the grave, he's _still_ a problem," she muttered under her breath. She took a deep breath and turned back to Kerry, a devilish smile on her face. "That's why we need this investment."

He began to chuckle, amused at first but it segued into snide chortling. "It is _not_ going to happen." He stood up and pointed to the window. "Gregory Richards and company are downtown right now just _waiting_ for some hack to ring the bell at the _New York Stock Exchange_. They are going to jump on those stocks before we even have the chance to rally." He ran his hand through his hair, disheveling the thick mane. "You'll never have a chance. And even if you do, it could very well be the last move _Deschanel Shipping _ever makes."

Her face hardened, her lips disappearing into a tight line. "Gregory Richards. He could do with a reminder."

"Of what?"

"You can't always get what you want."

* * *

Olivia pressed down on the doorbell, the buzzer echoing from behind the door. The heat was oppressive, suffocating her with invisible hands as she waited for Bette to open the door. As she was lifting her heavy hair away from her neck, the door flew open. "Hiya, Toots!"

"Ugh. How can you be so upbeat?" Olivia asked as she stepped into the foyer. "It's hotter than the Sahara out there."

"That's the beauty of air conditioning." She took the white box from Olivia and followed her into the living room. "What's this?" She tore off the red string tied around the box and peeked inside as Olivia collapsed onto the overstuffed armchair. "Jamaican patties!"

"Your favorite." She clipped her dark hair up and grabbed a magazine from the coffee table, fanning herself cool.

"And yours." Bette picked up a stuffed pastry and held it to her, the wax paper crunching beneath her hand. She stretched out on the sofa, sinking her teeth into the flaky crust. "Oh, Livy…this is the life."

She chuckled, resting her feet on the ottoman. "We do alright. I will say though," she added, glancing around the spacious room and at the wide staircase, "that selling the loft and moving here was a brilliant idea."

Bette grinned, polishing off the rest of her patty before sitting up. "It's certainly quieter."

"You didn't like living above the musicians?"

Bette scoffed, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "As cute as they were- no." She gazed up at the fifteen-foot ceiling and sighed in contentment. "I just love the space I have here."

Olivia wrenched around, gazing out the arched window to the greenery outside the glass. "The garden is an especially nice touch."

"It was the clincher," she explained, watching as Olivia pushed herself up and lumbered over to the window. "Should you be walking around so much?"

She turned around, her hair falling in loose wisps around her face as she laughed. "Are you mad? Other than being occasionally sleepy, I haven't felt this good in weeks. Have you been talking to Gregory?"

"Why? Is he giving you grief?"

"No, no. Let's just say that he's…cautious."

"Cautious?"

"Over-protective."

Bette chuckled as Holly Golightly jumped onto the sofa, curling into a ball on her mistress's stomach. "I find that absolutely shocking," she deadpanned.

They laughed together and the dog perked up, her head cocked as she contemplated the women. "Oh, he means well. He really does." She explored the room, fingering the soft petals of the floral arrangement. "From an admirer?" she asked with a small smile.

She shrugged and gently scratched the Maltese behind her ear. "Apparently. Though you'd think he would have figured out that I'm not the type of woman to be wooed with flowers."

Nodding in agreement, Olivia made her way over the large desk in the corner. "Chocolate and jewelry is more your taste." A shaft of sunlight fell through the window, gleaming on the shiny black keys of a typewriter. "What's all this?"

Bette sat up and began to laugh sheepishly when she saw where her friend's gaze lay. "Oh that… It's not anything, not really."

Sinking into the slick leather chair, she turned over the top sheet and began to read aloud. " 'His hand ran down her hot quivering flesh as her desperate cries of wanting hung in the dark night.' What is all this?" she asked.

"Just a little side business I've started."

"Little side business?" she muttered distractedly as she continued to read. She looked up after a moment, her eyebrow arched in surprise as she grinned wickedly. "This quite good."

"It keeps me busy."

"Apparently." She set the paper back where she found it and leaned back, unconsciously rubbing her stomach. "When have you been writing?"

"Here and there, this and that." She stood up and padded across the room in her bare feet, the small dog nestled snugly in the crook of her arm. "It's a sure bestseller: the sex lives of rich and beautiful people."

"Bestseller? You're going to publish it?"

Bette grinned excitedly, leaning against the heavy desk. "I've got a meeting with my editor next week."

They squealed in unison, grabbing hold of each other's hand. "That's so wonderful," Olivia gushed. "Just remember to change the names of the innocent."

"Honey," Bette chuckled, "there's not a single innocent person in this story."

"It wouldn't be a story of yours if there was."

* * *

"All hail the conquering hero!" Bill exclaimed, exhaling a thin stream of silver smoke as Gregory walked into their father's office.

Maxwell watched as Gregory rolled his eyes and sank into the other chair before his desk. "Good work, Gregory," he said pointedly, meriting a slight nod from his son.

"Thank you." He glanced over at Bill, who lounged casually in the chair next to him. "Did Zimm get you the contracts?"

"Signed, sealed and delivered. He's off taking a victory lap."

"Leave it to him," Maxwell chuckled. He leaned back in his chair, sighing in relief. "That's one headache that's behind us."

Gregory sat forward, passing his father the slim folder he carried in with him. "There was one ripple in our plan, but we rallied."

"What?"

"Not what," he answered as his father opened the folder and Bill stood to read over his shoulder, "but whom. A last minute attempt to buy in. S.E.C. regulations keep the buyer anonymous, but a contact was able to get me the name." He paused, waiting for their eyes to reach the bottom of the document.

"_Deschanel Shipping_?" Bill asked in surprise, glancing back to his younger brother as Maxwell swore under his breath.

"The one and only," Gregory answered dryly, watching as their father's brow furrowed in thought. "My sources tell me that Julianna controls the voting shares and is bordering on despotism."

"She certainly seems the type," Maxwell muttered, closing the folder forcefully. "She's single handedly destroying her company's relationship with every ally they've ever had, including this one."

"She's making it personal," Bill pointed out, arousing both Maxwell and Gregory's distaste for stating the obvious.

"It'll come back to bite her in the end. The personal and business _never_ mix successfully," the elder Richards concluded, noting the hardened gaze in his youngest son's eyes.

Gregory stood abruptly. "We came out on top today, but her attempt to hijack the stocks came from left field. We should have someone on the inside."

Maxwell nodded, reaching for the phone. "I'll take care of it."

"What do you think she wants?" Bill asked quietly as they left their father's office. "To make everyone's life as miserable as possible?"

"No, just as miserable as her own." He waited until two junior employees passed them before continuing. "She'll drag all of this out until the very end. It's becoming rather tiresome. Gladys," he growled, storming into his office, "get me Julianna Deschanel on the phone."

"Why are calling her?"

Gregory turned, seeing Olivia in the doorway at the same moment Gladys announced that she was waiting in his office. "Place the call, Gladys," he repeated as he turned to his brother.

"I'll be down the hall in my office, if anyone needs me," Bill said quickly, offering a reassuring smile to Olivia before he left.

"Why are you calling her?" she repeated as Gregory pecked her cheek and led her into his private office.

"It's business," he answered tersely, sitting at his desk and glaring at the phone.

"Don't patronize me." She pushed the door firmly closed. He looked up at her, her hands on her hips and her blue eyes blazing.

"I'd prefer to not go into it now."

"_I'd_ prefer you did."

"I told you, it's business," he repeated.

"It's not business when it comes to her."

"You don't say."

They stared each other down, neither willing to back down. The war of eyes ended moments later, cut short by the shrill ring of the telephone. His hand shot out like a snake attacking its prey, snatching the phone up. "She on the line?" He paused to listen, his eyes never leaving Olivia's still form. "Fine." He slammed the phone down and stood up.

"Well?"

"_Deschanel Shipping _has hundreds of employees in offices in California, New York and Paris," he chuckled dryly as he reached for the decanter of scotch on the bar, "yet no one seems to be able to locate her."

Olivia frowned as the scotch hit the bottom of the glass with a quiet splash and he took a long sip. "Is it because the divorce hearing was delayed again?"

He kept his back to her, the wall easier to deal with as he refilled his glass. "George called you?"

"After I got in from visiting Bette." She rubbed her forehead tiredly, the flames of a headache licking at her temple. "I can't say it surprised me. It's another in a long line of delays."

He scoffed into the scotch, his scorn echoing in the shallow glass. She narrowed her eyes and tapped her foot, growing more irritated as her eyes bore holes into his back. "You're really not going to talk to me?" she asked incredulously after the silence lasted a beat too long.

"Not now, Olivia."

"Fine," she snapped, grabbing her shoulder bag from the chair. "I'll see you at home." The door slammed shut behind her and Gladys looked away discreetly as Olivia stalked past her and out of the office.

Gregory turned away from the bar after she left, glancing at the closed door for a long moment before sinking into the chair behind his desk. He rotated around to the window, aimlessly gazing out at the skyline. The late afternoon sunshine seemed to make a gross mockery of his dark mood. He could feel a headache coming on…and its name was Julianna. He rubbed his eyes, squeezing them shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He was fighting a war, the same enemy on both fronts. Everywhere he turned, there she seemed to be. He could fight her on the business front and come out victorious. _Deschanel Shipping _was a ship that was sinking fast. One had to appreciate the cruel irony. But a ship without a captain could not fare.

Setting the empty crystal aside, he ran his hand through his hair and sighed in disgust. He hated that as he trumpeted business victories, Julianna claimed the personal ones. He had always thrived on the thrill of victory. That rush of adrenaline that came with the close of every successful business deal. He never thought it possible that he would be willing to trade them in for anything. Until now.

"Was that Olivia I just saw storming down the hallway?"

Gregory closed his eyes against his father's question, curling his hands around the arm of his chair. "Probably."

"What happened?"

"We had a disagreement."

Maxwell pressed his hands into the top of the chair, his flesh sinking into the burgundy leather. "I know it's not in your nature, Gregory, but you should've let her win. It's easier in the end."

"When have I ever done things the easy way? People who take the easy way out just aren't trying hard enough."

Maxwell had to allow himself a grin at that. How many times over the years had he lectured his sons with that very line? "Well, yes. But when it comes to your wife, all the rules fall off the table."

It was out of Gregory's mouth before he could stop himself. "She's not my wife."

"Not yet. Not yet, she's not."

Gregory's chair swiveled around and he faced his father with icy eyes. "Mother's optimism has rubbed off on you."

He shrugged and turned, poised to leave. "It's what happens when you spend the better half of your life with someone. You share the best of yourself with them. In my case, your mother's given more than she's received." He glanced down at his watch and smiled reassuringly. "I'm late for drinks at the _Waldorf_."

Maxwell paused at the door and turned back to his son. "Finish up and go home to Olivia. Don't stay here too late."

After he left, Gregory couldn't help but think, though it took nearly twenty-seven years, he and his father finally held a real conversation.

* * *

Maxwell followed the maitre d' through the _Bull and Bear_, which was slowly starting to fill, even though the closing bell hadn't been rung. The lights were turned to the lowest setting, a soft glow that reflected on the smooth crystal glasses. Smoke hung in the air, caught in the thin shafts of light.

The maitre d' stopped before a table, partially shrouded in the darkness of the corner. He took a seat in the club chair, waving off the menu. "You're a difficult woman to track down," he said quietly when the maitre d' departed with his drink order.

Julianna chuckled, taking a small sip of her Martini. "Yet you did so with only one phone call." She sat the delicate glass back on the square coaster, tracing the silver edge. "It was more than your son managed to do."

His face tightened, the friendliness draining from his eyes. "You cut to the chase quicker than I do." He nodded as the waiter placed the glass of scotch in front of him, the ice cubes tinkling against the sides.

"I'll take the compliment," she said, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm sure it's the last one I'll be getting from you today."

The aged scotch ran down his throat, the rusted caramel colored liquid glittering in the pale light. "How much is it going to cost me to get you to stop stalling this divorce and letting everyone move on with their lives?" he asked bluntly.

Her face wrinkled in confusion. "Stalling the divorce? Whatever do you mean?"

"Name your price."

She clucked her tongue disparagingly. "And you say _I_ cut to the chase quickly." She tipped her glass in toast to him and swallowed a large mouthful. "You never struck me as the type to just 'roll over'."

"All bets are off when it comes to family," he said simply, laying his palms on the table.

"At least we agree on one thing." She paused, her head tilted in thought. "How much is this divorce worth to you?"

"About as much as it is to you, I'm sure." Maxwell rolled the glass tumbler in his hand, the clink of the ice cubes filling the silence. "Be smart, Julianna. Cut your losses, take the offer that's on the table and move on with your life."

"I assure you that I have lost _nothing_."

"Be that as it may, you seem to be doing everything in your power to stop the inevitable." He drummed his fingers impatiently on the tabletop. "75,000 shares of the stock of your choice."

"75,000? I hear desperation in that offer, Maxwell," she said, gently twisting a cigarette into her holder.

"Hardly desperation," he explained smugly. "Just the concerted effort of a peacemaker."

"You make it sound as if we're at war. What is it good for?"

"Absolutely nothing," he deadpanned. "100,000 shares of your choice will be made available to you one hour after Olivia's divorce is finalized." He extended his hand, waiting to seal the agreement.

"Hardly desperation, you say?" Julianna smirked, exhaling a curlicue of smoke. She reached out gingerly, clasping his hand as she said, "Make it 100,000 of Richards preferred and we have a deal."

His eyes darkened, black storm clouds on the horizon. "Done," he growled, throwing her hand away as he stood. He smoothed the fabric of his coat, fastening it closed. "You'll hear from me once the divorce goes through."

"Oh, believe me," she said under her breath as Maxwell left the table, "_you'll_ hear from me."

* * *

The sound of the key in the door was a familiar sound, one that signaled the arrival of Gregory. Olivia reached for the remote and turned up the volume a few clicks as the front door open and closed. Despite the television, she heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor and the steps leading down into the living room. When they stopped, she glared at the television, determined to focus on the characters moving across the screen.

A pair of hands rested on her shoulders, Gregory's thumbs caressing the back of her neck like a gentle breeze. Her attempt to sit frozen failed miserably when his mouth lay even with her ear and he whispered in it, "I'm sorry for this afternoon." He reached over her shoulder, placing a large bouquet of flowers in her lap. "I was wrong. Forgive me."

She fingered the petals, releasing their fragrance as he walked around to the front of the couch and sat on the coffee table before her. He held up a large brown bag and tore it open, pulling the contents out with a flourish. "Mocha chip, raspberry splendor and butter cream-caramel swirl."

Her mouth curled into a small smile as he rested his hands on her knees. "Gregory," she started to say.

"I'm tired, Liv." Her mouth closed and she reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm so tired of this stalemate we're living in." He lifted her hand, fingering the glittering pear cut diamond on her left hand. "Moving forward without going anywhere."

Olivia sighed and glanced away, only to have him reach out and gently turn her face back to him. He lingered on her chin for a long moment, stroking it before his hand fell to the swell of her stomach. "And it kills me," he continued after a moment, "that you're suffering and there is nothing I can do to stop it. To finally end it."

She grazed his cheek and he reflexively turned to the warmth of her hand, his lips brushing her wrist. Scooting forward, she cupped his face and placed a long kiss on his mouth. The paper wrapped around the flowers crunched between them as his hands caressed her hips. He slowly pulled her off the sofa, his hands sliding up her back as she kneeled in front of him. Her hands curled around his neck as she nipped playfully at his lips. She broke away, nuzzling her face against his. "Gregory," she whispered, resting her forehead against his, "you're too hard on yourself."

His face was still as he gazed at her, her finger lightly tracing the outline of his mouth. "You can't always fix everything," she continued, sweeping up the side of his face to run her fingers through his hair. "But I do like watching you try."

Gregory's face melted into a smile, one that sunrises were born on. "You do?"

She nodded, turning her eyes away bashfully as she grasped his hand and held it to her lips. Kissing it softly, she watched him with upturned eyes and whispered, "A piece of paper saying that I'm free to be yours won't change anything. I'm already yours…and I always will be." She paused, watching as his face softened. "Marry me."

"I already asked you that," he chuckled, "and you said yes."

"Marry me _now_."

"Here?"

Olivia nodded enthusiastically, holding their entwined hands over her heart. "I, Olivia," she giggled as he began to laugh quietly, "take Gregory to be my friend and lover for life. To be by my side through the good times and the bad, through the tranquil and the chaotic." She swallowed and continued with a quiet seriousness, "With all that I am and all that I will ever be, I take you as you are, loving and trusting what I see before me and what I do not yet know, for all the days of my life."

He reached out, catching the tear that rolled down her face with his finger. Her near violet eyes sparkled with unshed tears as he began to speak softly. "I, Gregory, take Olivia as my love. To be the mother of my children and the light in my life. To be the one to celebrate my triumphs and share in my sorrow." His voice grew shaky, but he continued past the rock of emotion in his throat, drawing strength from the warmth in her hand. "I give you my hand, my heart and my love for all eternity."

Gregory pulled her closer at the same moment she threw herself into his arms. Crushing her to him, he buried his face in her hair and lost himself in the lingering scent of green tea and mint. She kissed his neck, tears stinging her eyes as she shuddered. "You're mine and I'm yours now…forever," she whispered, collapsing into the protective shelter of his embrace.


	63. 9:34 pm

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 63: "9:34 p.m."

Olivia ran her hand over the cool brass bar, her eyes taking in the flowing netting that fell down around the cradle. Her face wrinkled in disgust and she bit her lip when the sales woman asked, "Well? Do you love it?"

She glanced back, her face neutralizing as she faced Gregory. "It's-," she faltered, turning to Gregory for help.

"Not what we're looking for," he finished, taking Olivia by the arm and gently leading her to the next showcase. The sales woman nodded, trailing behind them dejectedly. "You didn't like it?" he whispered.

"Of course not!" She glanced at him accusingly. "That was the most ostentatious thing I have _ever_ seen! For heaven's sake, he won't even see color for the first few weeks of his life." She lowered her voice and glanced behind her, eyeing the sales woman discreetly. "And have you noticed," she asked, turning back to Gregory's amused expression, "that she's annoyingly chipper?" She groaned and chirped mockingly, "_Do you love it_?"

Gregory sighed and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. "Forget her. Do you see anything you like?"

They stopped in the middle of the showroom, glancing around at the displays. She felt like she was lost in a maze, the paths outlined by cradles, cribs and changing tables. "I don't know," she said, furiously scratching her stomach through her thin blouse.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm itchy," she sighed. "And hot."

"It's the hottest July on record," the sales woman piped up helpfully from behind them.

They both turned slowly to her, blank expressions on their faces. She swallowed nervously and shakily gestured to the center of the showroom. "Why don't you both take a look at our spotlight section and I'll get you a glass of ice water."

He followed Olivia through the store, resting his hand around on her shoulder as he gazed around. "You know," he said as she sat down on one of the rocking chairs, "it _is_ the hottest July on record."

"Go to hell," she muttered irritably, pulling her hair up into a twist. She leaned back as she chuckled, closing her eyes. "Let's go away. Somewhere cool."

"When?"

"Tomorrow would be lovely." She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him. "It's hot, the city is crowded and every day the paper is filled with horrible stories about that serial killer." She shuddered and he rubbed her arm soothingly. " 'Son of Sam'," she grumbled. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"He hasn't come into Manhattan," he reminded her, crouching down next to her. He took her hand, massaging it gently as he continued, "You don't go out to Queens or up to the Bronx."

"You do," she jumped in, waving an accusing finger at him. "You and Bill-"

"Have season tickets," he interrupted. "We're sitting in box seats at Yankee Stadium, not aimlessly driving around the streets." He picked up her hand, kissed her knuckles reassuringly and stood tall. "We'll be fine. All of us."

"Fine," Olivia sighed, leaning back in the rocker and stretching out her legs. "If you say so."

"I do," he stated confidently, grinning at her for a long moment before he leaned down and kissed her lips softly. "Don't make yourself sick over this. Promise me?"

"I promise," she said quietly.

"Thank you." He squeezed her shoulder and glanced down, taking a new notice of her resting in the chair. "Comfortable?"

She nodded, smiling bashfully. "This chair is heavenly."

"Good. You're getting it."

"It's one of our more popular items," the sales woman chimed in, returning with a tall glass of water and crushed ice. She passed it to Olivia and took out her pad. "I can ring that up for you."

As Gregory and the woman stepped aside to discuss the billing, Olivia pushed herself up. The ice water ran down her throat and she took advantage of the sudden burst of energy to wander around the store. Every theme under the sun was represented, from animals to sailboats to moonbeams. She lingered on a hand woven basket with blue gingham bedding before looking up. "Gregory?" she called. When he looked up, she pointed down at the basket and he nodded.

"Add that too," he said to the sales woman, who nodded eagerly and scribbled something on the receipt.

"Darling, come see this." Sunlight fell in through the large display window at the front of the store, causing the honey colored wood to gleam. "Look," she said, waving him closer, "it's perfect."

The sales woman ran her hand over the soft quilt and fluffed the small pillow. "It's perfect for a little boy or a little girl, in case you don't know yet."

"Oh no," she smiled as Gregory covered her hand with his own, "we know. We're having a boy."

"Well then, it's perfect for you." She glanced at Gregory, who eyed the rest of the additional furniture. "All of the pieces were hand painted by an artist who lives upstate. The entire set is one of a kind."

Olivia grinned at Gregory, who nodded. "We'll take it," he said.

* * *

Across the street, Mickey Donahue wiped his forehead and leaned back against the granite building. The faded baseball cap on his forehead provided little relief from the powerful sun and severe heat smothering the city. He folded his arms against his chest and continued to stare at the small shop across the street. The wide window afforded him the perfect view of them, browsing through the shop. 

His expression remained unchanged, his hollow eyes hidden by the dark aviator sunglasses on his face as they left the shop hand in hand. They began to slowly walk down the street, their arms around the other's waist. He pushed himself off the building and followed them from his side of the street.

He couldn't have asked for easier targets. The man was a creature of habit, jogging the same route every morning and leaving for his office at the same time. The woman was always out, an endless routine of shopping, lunches and doctor's appointments. Three weeks of watching them and he could pinpoint their locations to within a five block radius. Good for him, bad for them.

They stopped suddenly at a street vendor's cart and he busied himself at a newspaper stand. Over the top of one of the daily papers, he watched the man pass the woman two large ice cream cones and accept a third for himself. He threw the paper aside and crossed the street quickly, following twenty paces behind them. The woman was eagerly digging into her ice cream cone and he could hear her laughing as the man pressed his hand to her stomach.

Mickey rolled his eyes and dug a worn toothpick out of his pocket. He began to chew on it aimlessly, following them as they walked uptown at a leisurely pace, occasionally stopping at store windows. He took no mind though. He had all the time in the world.

It was a shame they couldn't say the same.

* * *

Julianna sat comfortably in the drawing room, absentmindedly turning the pages of the day's newspaper. The heavy drapes were drawn tight against the windows, blocking out the sun and giving an air of coolness to the room. The maid walked in quietly, pushing a small cart laden with a pitcher of iced tea and a platter of biscuits. "Just leave them," she said quietly, not looking up from her paper. 

The maid nodded and backed away, leaving the room as quietly as she entered it. Julianna glanced back down at her paper, only to be interrupted again a moment later. "Good afternoon," Kerry said, tossing his suit coat on the silk high back chair.

She glanced up at him, eyeing him icily for a long moment. "What now?" he asked when she glanced back at the paper without saying a word.

"Where were you this morning?"

The seemingly disinterested tone with which she asked the question gave him pause and he watched her for a long moment before answering. "At home, with my wife."

She looked up slowly, her mouth set in a straight line. The silence stretched between them unpleasantly and she narrowed her eyes. "At. Home. With. Your. Wife," she repeated slowly, her eyes darkening with each word.

"Julianna," he began quickly only to be cut off by her hand.

"I am no whore." She folded the paper back up with painstaking ease and set it on the side table. "Not for you or anyone. You're here when _I_ want you to be."

"Julianna, my wife-"

" '_My wife_'," she mocked. "You're pathetic." She gave him one last glare before she turned away in disgust. "Get out."

"But I just got here, Maman."

She looked past Kerry to AJ, who stood in the doorway with a mountain of luggage behind him. "Darling!" she said as she stood, plastering a wide smile on her face. She brushed passed Kerry, with nary a second glance before she wrapped her arms around her son. "What are you doing here?"

"It's been three months," he laughed, pulling back to look into Julianna's face. "One can only spend so long in Tahiti. Imagine my surprise when I returned home and found _Reve de la Mer_ locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Why didn't you tell me you were staying permanently in New York?"

She shrugged as Kerry left, his presence or lack thereof hardly made a dent in her world. "It was all so unexpected," she explained quickly, relieved to see that AJ accepted her version of the truth. "And the house was so big with just me there."

AJ glanced around the large apartment and smiled down at his mother. "So you chose New York City of all places?"

She sat down slowly, her hands twisting as she assumed a still face and gazed at him. "It was very hard to live in _Reve de la Mer _without your father. I'm without sadness here."

"It suits you," he mused after a long moment. "You look…more alive. Happier."

Smiling widely, she sat back against the high back of the chair and sighed in contentment. "I am happy," she agreed. "Things are finally as I want them."

* * *

Olivia sat quietly on the sofa, her feet propped on the coffee table and cushioned by the pillow Gregory thoughtfully placed there. A large bowl of ice cream rested on her stomach and she watched the television intently as the main character followed the diminutive figure cloaked in red along the Venetian canals. She shrank closer to Gregory as the music swelled ominously, pressing her hand into his. "He's nearly got her," she whispered. 

He glanced up from the projection reports, first looking at her and then at the television. The screen flickered as the action increased, the light bouncing off the window. "Why are you watching this if it scares you?" She hushed him, her eyes never leaving the screen as she scooped a mouthful of ice cream into her mouth. "You're going to give yourself a heart attack," he insisted softly, turning back to his sheaf of papers.

"But darling, that's half the fun." She grinned earnestly and prodded him gently in the ribs. "Put your papers away. It's almost nine-thirty. You've been working forever." He sighed and closed the folder, tossing it aside. "That didn't take much convincing," she laughed.

"I just needed someone else to tell me," he said simply, rubbing his bleary eyes. He draped his arm around her shoulder and she snuggled closer.

"We should go to Italy on our honeymoon," Olivia said after a moment of thought, the spoon scraping the bottom of the bowl.

"Italy, hmm?"

She nodded, sitting up to set the empty bowl on the table next to her feet. "Italy." She watched as the knife flew and the main character's blood ran into the canal, wrinkling her face as she said, "Not Venice though."

He chuckled and squeezed her shoulder. "Fine, Venice is out. Rome?"

"Too busy." She gasped and turned to him, grasping his hand excitedly. "Florence!"

"Florence?"

"Oh yes, darling. It's one of the most beautiful cities in the world! The food, the museums, the language, the wine, the culture…"

He smiled at her enthusiasm as she went on and on about the virtues of the city. "Ok, ok!" he interrupted. "You've convinced me."

She smiled proudly, her eyes lighting up as she said, "I should have been a lawyer."

"You'd wipe the floor with the opposing council," he said, standing up as the entire living room plunged into darkness. The television fuzzed out as the air conditioning unit sputtered to a stop, dropping the entire apartment into an unnatural silence.

"Gregory?" she asked, a tinge of nervousness in her voice as she groped the air for him.

"I'm right here," he said, feeling in the dark for her before resting his hand on her head. "It must be a power failure."

"In the entire building?"

He felt slowly for the furniture, making his way to the fireplace. The box of matches that he used to light the kindling sat near the iron fireplace tools. The match hissed as it sparked and he turned back to Olivia slowly. Flickering light filled the living room as he lit the candles on the coffee table. "It looks like for the whole damn city."

She picked up one of the candles and stood slowly, her hand shielding the temperamental flame as she walked over to him. "Oh my god," she whispered, standing next to him as they looked out the window. The illuminated buildings that they were accustomed to seeing were dark, inky black in the heavy July night. She looked down to where she knew the street to be and saw only pinpricks of light coming from the headlights of the cars that were now at a standstill on Central Park South.

Gregory reached out and twisted the lock on the window, grunting as he jerked upward on the frame. It gave in after a minute, sliding up reluctantly as he reached behind glass and pulled down the screen. "The power shouldn't be out for too long," he said confidently, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "We were overdue for an outage anyway. The last one was in '65."

"And," she muttered, twisting her hair up and out of her face, "it just had to happen during the hottest summer _ever_."

He sighed in commiseration as he wrenched the three other windows open. "Thank Murphy and his law for that one," he said over his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" she asked as she turned away from the window, still not quite believing the sea of darkness that swam before her.

"Closet," he called, his voice drowned out as he rooted through the shelves. "I think there are some candles in the back." He came back with an armload of candles and began to set them around the living room. Passing her a lit one, he said, "Why don't you go pull some more ice cream out of the freezer. It'd be a shame to let almost eight gallons melt."

She smirked and took the candle, following him to the hallway. "I thought you said the power wouldn't be out for very long."

"Things change in a New York minute around here," he smiled, fitting a pair of batteries into the bottom of the small radio. "Bring me out the fudge chip."

Sighing in anticipation, she licked her lips and rubbed her stomach softly. "More ice cream sounds good, doesn't it baby boy?" She pushed through the swinging door, holding the candle out straight in front of her. The soft light flickered on the cupboards, reflecting glowing dots on the glass fronts. Her bare feet padded across the black and white tile, still cool on her soles.

Olivia left the candle on the countertop and pulled open the heavy door to the freezer. She was greeted with a momentary burst of cold air before it dissolved into the warmth that was beginning to blanket the apartment. It was after she pulled out several cartons that she noticed the candle had fizzled out. The burnt smell of the extinguished flame filled her nostrils and she turned around quickly, the freezer door closing heavily as she felt a hand clamp around her mouth.

The carton of ice cream slipped from her hands, hitting the tile and exploding in a creamy mess. The hand pressed into her lips, rough against her soft skin. Her scream died against his hand, muffled against his palm. She felt a sharp point toying with the flesh of her neck and a shallow breath against her ear. "Fight all you want, darlin'," Mickey whispered as she strained against his restraining arm, "but it won't change a damn thing. You're mine now. All mine."


	64. A Night of Terror

_**NOTE: Yes, there really was a massive blackout in New York City on July 13, 1977. The blackout experiences relayed in this chapter were borrowed from recollections of my own family members, who were living in New York City, Queens, the Bronx, and northern New Jersey at the time. Also, the parts of the mayor's speech that are in italics are direct quotes. Finally, this is most likely my last chapter before I leave for vacation to Ireland on the 18**__**th**__**. The story will resume in September when I come back. As a consolation for the mini-hiatus, I included a preview for the next few chapters that will conclude "The Garden of Reverie."**_

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 64: "A Night of Terror"

_July 14, 12:00pm_

The mayor wiped his brow, a sheen of sweat coating his warm forehead. The windows of the makeshift command center were flung open, but with no breeze to speak of, it did little to relieve the stagnant frustration in the still powerless room. The press corps before him was a flaming pit, angry questions being thrown at him from all directions. He didn't think it was possible to shrink more than his 5' 2" stature when the reporter from Channel 4 seized on a brief lull and barked, "Mayor Beame!"

He nodded and pointed in her direction. "Yes, Michelle?"

"With widespread reports of looting and vandalism in all five boroughs and given that the city still reeling from near bankruptcy, what is the estimated cost of rebuilding and recovering from this power failure?"

The mayor sighed and gripped the podium. "_The blackout has threatened our safety and has seriously impacted our economy. We have been needlessly subjected to a night of terror in many communities that have been wantonly looted and burned. The cost, when it is finally tallied, will be enormous_. Our businesses have vandalized. Our citizens have been terrorized." He paused and looked out across the assembled crowd of reporters and news cameras. "_This shouldn't have happened. It happened, and we want to find out why_."

* * *

_Fourteen and a half hours earlier_

"Why did this happen?"

Julianna tapped her fingers impatiently on the table as a waiters rushed around the restaurant, setting additional candelabras on every available surface. Those same four words had been uttered repeatedly since the lights went out ten minutes ago. As each minute in the dark passed her by, she grew more irritated as the rest of the restaurant continued to find their situation amusing.

"Isn't this incredible?" AJ asked breathlessly as he returned to the table. "There's a group of people trapped in the elevator. They got on just before the lights went out."

She sighed, one of boredom and took a long sip out of her wine glass. "Lucky them."

He leaned back, stretching comfortably in his chair. "The maitre d' mentioned something about taking small groups of people down the stairs by candlelight if the lights don't come back on soon."

"To the street?" She wrinkled her face distastefully as she turned to the dark night.

AJ shrugged and toyed with the remnants of his dinner. "We can't stay here all night."

Julianna turned to the window that afforded a panoramic view of the city. The buildings were dark, the mosaic of lights extinguished. "Out there?" she snapped, her voice clipped with irritation. "But anything could happen in the dark."

* * *

Gregory fiddled with the dial of the small radio, hearing nothing but fuzzy static emit from the speakers. "Damnit," he muttered under his breath, skimming over the music stations until he found a news one. The news reporters were talking simultaneously, one singing the praises of the emergency generator still powering the station and the other urging their listeners to remain indoors. He chuckled, listening as reports began to pour in. "Liv," he called out, "you've got to hear this. They're playing Christmas carols at Shea!"

He drifted over to the window, leaning against the sill as he stared into the black night. Hot dry air began to fill the apartment and he rested his head on the glass, still cool from the air conditioning of earlier. The candles flickered from behind him, seemingly drawing strength from the warm air. Shadows danced on the walls, licking at the painting of mother and child that hung over the fireplace.

As he contemplated lighting a fire in the hearth, weighing more light against more heat, a crack echoed in the still apartment. "Couldn't find the fudge chip?" he asked with a smile as he turned around.

Mickey began to chuckle, a perverse cackle of delight as he tightened his grip around Olivia and stepped out of the shadows. "Brought you somethin' better."

* * *

"Eleanor! Quickly! You've got to hear this."

Eleanor turned around, removing the reading glasses that were perched on the end of her nose. "What's wrong?"

Maxwell gestured at the television and turned the volume up by several notches. "There's been a massive power failure in New York City," he murmured, never taking his eyes off the screen.

She stood, leaving her unfinished letter on the desk as inched closer to the television. The newscaster was speaking quickly into the camera, blatant surprise in his voice. She gasped as they cut to an affiliate station in New Jersey, whose live camera was pointed at the famed, and now dark, New York City skyline. The on-scene reporter was capturing the reactions of the locals.

"We couldn't believe it!" one eyewitness exclaimed, turning around and pointing at the black canvas across the Hudson river. "One minute it was there and the next minute it wasn't…like someone blew out a candle over the entire city!"

"They can't believe it? _I_ can't believe it," Maxwell insisted, lowering the volume as he looked up at his wife. "In this day and age…this will ruin any chance Beame has for re-election. Mark my words."

She sank onto the sofa next to him, covering his hand with her own. "Do you think that Gregory and Olivia are alright?"

"Weren't they going up to Westport?"

Eleanor shook her head, turning back to the television. "They weren't leaving until Friday afternoon." Grainy footage captured from a helicopter hovering over the city showed a black sea beneath them, save for the aircraft lights that somehow managed to blink steadily atop the Twin Towers.

They watched the images play across the screen in silence. "They're fine," he said, patting her hand softly. "I'm sure of it."

* * *

Gregory's heart froze in his chest, for even in the dim light it was impossible to miss the blade of the knife gleam silver. He took a tentative step closer, only for Mickey to growl, "Don't you take another step."

He nodded, his hands falling to his sides as his heart began to thunder against his rib cage. "What do you want?"

"Stop talkin'," he ordered softly, the point of the blade toying with the flesh of Olivia's neck. "I'm just here for a little fun."

He swallowed hard, forcing an air of reason into his voice. "How much would it cost you to find it somewhere else?"

Mickey looked up and glared, dragging the pointed blade through the soft flesh of Olivia's neck. Gregory froze, a block of ice settling in the pit of his stomach as her shriek echoed in the apartment's silence and a thin trail of blood trickled down her neck.

"I didn't wanna cut her," he hissed over Olivia's whimper.

"Let her _go_." Gregory's voice was a low growl with a palpable undercurrent of increasing anger.

"Can't do that." He pressed the knife back into her neck, aggravating the wound against her shriek. Bending his head to her neck, he lapped up the trail of blood like a cat does milk. Olivia squirmed, her body involuntarily shuddering as his tongue caressed her flesh.

Gregory felt for the table, his tense fingers skimming the wood for anything he could fashion a weapon. His eyes never left Olivia's, tears glistening as they fell from her eyes. Ignoring the thunder in his ears, he clenched and released his fist as his fingers brushed against something small and squared. He locked around it, recognizing the heft of the crystal clock in his hand. Gripping the timepiece, he angled his body and said simply, "There's three hundred dollars in my wallet and more than that in the safe down the hall."

Mickey looked up from Olivia's neck, his greasy blond hair falling in his face. "Don't make no difference," he muttered, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Don't be stupid," he insisted, clenching the smooth surface of the clock. "Money makes _all_ the difference." He allowed himself a brief glance at Olivia, his blood running cold when he met her terrified gaze.

He chuckled in agreement, wiping a drop of Olivia's blood from his chin. His lips were discolored, a dark stain that only the macabre could appreciate. He smacked them together and grinned up at Gregory. "It's already made the difference."

It was at that moment that the lights flickered on. The hum of the air conditioning unit filled the silence as Mickey looked up in surprise, his knife falling away from Olivia's neck. Gregory seized on the brief distraction. With the heavy clock tight in his hand, he raised his arm and lunged forward, zeroing in on the sickly pale face that was slowly turning back to his direction. The clock met the side of Mickey's head with a sickening crack and he howled, instinctively releasing Olivia as the knife clattered to the wood floor.

"Olivia- _run_!"

The emergency power supply lasted less than a minute and the apartment sank into darkness again as Gregory threw his body into Mickey's. They fell to the floor with a heavy thud, the momentary setback and warm blood oozing down the side of his face was no deterrent for Mickey. He fought back, his fists crunching into Gregory's jaw.

Olivia scrambled up from the floor, pressing her hand to her neck. Sticky warmth met her fingers as the two men thrashed on the floor before her. "Gregory!" she shrieked, crouching frozen behind the sofa. Her legs wouldn't move, glued to the floor as her heart thundered in her chest.

Torn flesh against torn flesh, the two men continued to attack each other. The flickering candlelight danced over them, their actions a mockery to the soft light. Mickey's knee came up, catching Gregory in the gut as he threw him off. With lightening quick hands, he pulled a second knife from the holster around his leg and straddled Gregory, thrusting the knife into his chest.

Gregory's eyes widened as Olivia's anguished cry rang out. His breath came out in a rasp, exhaling tightly as Mickey yanked the knife out. Comforting warmth washed over him as he stared up at the ceiling, darkness encroaching upon his vision. His mouth was moving, his lips forming the word he could voice. _Liv…_

Mickey roared at the ceiling, a war cry as he raised his arms in victory over Gregory's now still form. His face throbbed and one eye was swollen shut, his stringy hair matted to the side of his face as he spit a wad of blood out of his mouth. He jumped up in one fluid movement and turned around to where Olivia huddled next to the sofa. He yanked her up, wrenching her arm as he threw her into the wall. A sharp pain erupted in the back of her head, ringing in her ears as he cupped her face and banged it into the wall again. She reached for his face, her fingernails raking across his cheek and taking out a chunk of flesh.

"Bitch," he growled, slamming her back into the wall one final time. She winced and cried out as he grabbed her forward and pushed her to the floor. Her back screamed in agony against the hard wood floor and she shrieked in terror as he crouched over her. His hand caressed her pregnant stomach, sending a wave of repulsion through her. His fingers curled against her flesh, sweeping up her chest before they locked around her throat. She clawed at his tightening grip, his thumbs digging into her windpipe.

Throbbing pressure built up in her neck, her brain screaming for oxygen as her legs flailed uncontrollably. Her eyes danced over him, soaking up the sight of his gaze hardening as he pressed his hands in deeper. Her fists pummeled his arms with seemingly little effect, a quiet hum filling her ears as her entire body began to thrash violently.

"Your lil' bastard's next," he grunted, leaning his full weight against her.

Her arms flailed outward, twitching against the wood floor. As a gasp died on her lips, her fingers brushed against an unfamiliar object. With a shaking hand, she grasped it and pulled it close. The blade of his first knife dug into her palm and she wrapped her hand around the leather handle, thrusting up as she squeezed her eyes shut.

She felt his iron grip loosen, falling away from her throat as air rushed into her screaming lungs and something wet splashed across her face. She opened her eyes slowly, gasping for air. Mickey sat on top of her, his hands resting on her stomach with a blank look on his face. He reached up shakily, reams of thick blood gushing from the wound where the knife was still embedded. His eyes turned up to her, meeting her blue ones for a long moment before he slumped forward.

Olivia's scream came out in a cough as she kicked his heavy body off her. Still on the floor, she scrambled back as hot salty tears cut through the bloodstains discoloring her face. Her thin blouse clung to her, sticky and drenched as the nauseating stench of blood filled her nostrils.

Gasping and coughing for air, she crawled on her hands and knees to Gregory's side. She grabbed his hand, rasping his name as schizophrenic shafts of bright light filled the apartment. She cupped his face, a bloody handprint stamped on his cheek as a beam of light hit her face. "Gregory," she rasped as the sound of footsteps thundering through the foyer fell to the wayside.

She looked up, dragging her eyes away from Gregory's motionless face. Sharp light blinded her eyes as hands turned her away from his body. Against struggling to refocus, she vaguely registered the face of the man that lived in the apartment next to them. He was cupping her face, shouting questions over a shrill scream that rang out in the apartment.

Looking back to Gregory, she saw her neighbor's wife hunched over him, frantically pressing her index and middle fingers into his neck. A wide pool of blood was growing beneath him, black in the faint light as the husband shook Olivia's shoulders.

Like Pandora's Box unleashing a torrent of evil on humanity, Olivia returned to herself. Throbbing pain echoed on her neck and she squeezed Gregory's lifeless hand as her neighbor turned her face back to his. The fog lifted as she realized that her voice returned and that she was the one screaming uncontrollably.

* * *

_Previews:_

"We're losing him!"

"For the family? FOR THE FAMILY! You killed the family!"

"What is my world without you in it?"

"We can't go back…ever."

"Forever starts now."


	65. Stay

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 65: "Stay"

Julianna tapped the face of her watch, her nail tapping the thin piece of glass. She angled her wrist closer to the temperamental flame of the candle and squinted. Eyeglasses had never been an option for her. She was too vain to allow that perceived disfigurement to her face.

_After midnight_, she read silently before she stood, taking her warm glass of scotch with her as she headed for the balcony. Her face wrinkled as she met the stagnant air and rested her arms on the stone ledge.

The scotch was warm against her lips as she looked where she knew uptown to be. She swallowed slowly, savoring the way the rich liquor ran down her throat. Raising the crystal tumbler in toast, she whispered into the night, "Peccatum meum contra me est semper."

Chuckling at the apropos line, she tilted her head back and swallowed the remaining liquor in one fell swoop. "Rest in peace."

* * *

Gregory walked along the beach, the coarse sand tough on the soles of his bare feet. The sun lingered in the sky, prolonging the daylight hours for the long days of summer. A strong breeze tousled his hair, perfumed with the scent of the sea. Waves from the bay crashed onto the rocky beach, sending a spray of foam into the air. 

The sound of Olivia's voice carried over the beach. He turned around, shading his eyes against the lazy glare from the windows. She was waving from the topmost balcony, calling for him. "Gregory!"

He waved back, grinning as he watched her stand on tiptoes and as her wave grew more enthusiastic. He began the long walk up the beach and through the grass covered dunes to the summer house. "Gregory! Stay! Please! Stay for me!" he heard her call.

_Stay…_, he wondered as he neared the house and Olivia. The windows continued to glow as they captured the sun's rays, reflecting brightly in his eyes. The breath caught in his throat when a sharp burst of light knifed through his vision, harsh white light that seemingly cut through the core of him.

A searing pain washed over his body and he grunted as he fell to his knees, clutching his chest. The sand cushioned his body as he collapsed back and a deafening roar filled his ears. He struggled to open his eyes, forcing his reluctant eyelids up. Blinding white light stung his eyes, willing them shut again before he pushed past it.

A fuzzy cluster of faces loomed over him, as if he were seeing one of the old films that Olivia was so fond of watching. But the pain coursing through his body was too real to be fiction.

"_We're losing him!_" an unfamiliar voice shouted, raw and unnaturally intensified.

And then he was falling. Weightless, he fell away from the faces and through the dark night. Olivia's tear stained face loomed, her glowing blue eyes in the dark the last sight he saw.

* * *

Olivia clutched Gregory's hand as a team of doctors hovered over his lifeless body. Her ears were still ringing from the medical helicopter that brought them across the Hudson River to New Jersey. She blinked when the powerful overhead light clicked on, a blinding light that filled the exam room. Looking down, she saw Gregory's eye lids flutter open for the briefest of moments. "Gregory!" she exclaimed, tears filling her eyes and choking her voice. She squeezed his hand, as if that simple action could provide him the will he needed. 

The doctors were shouting commands at each other and the nurses, words that washed over her like warm bath water. She knelt closer to him, ignoring the nurse who was shouting about a B.P. that was dropping. "Stay," she whispered in his ear, fresh tears welling at the sight of the bluish tint his skin took. "Please…stay for me."

"We're losing him!" the doctor shouted, tilting his head to the door. "Get him up to Trauma One!"

Gregory's hand fell out of her grasp as the gurney he lay on rolled away and a nurse held her back from following. "You'll need to wait here," she said. She held Olivia's arm firmly as she led her out of the room.

"But," she sputtered, her eyes desperately watching as the elevator doors closed and took Gregory away, "I didn't get to tell him that I loved him." She dissolved into tears against the nurse as her knees buckled.

* * *

Maxwell strode off the elevator before the doors were even fully open, Eleanor hurrying behind him. "My son, Gregory Richards, was brought in from New York. I want to see him." 

"The doctor is with him," the nurse said, coming around the counter of the nurse's station.

"What happened?" Eleanor asked anxiously.

The nurse shrugged. "No one is exactly sure."

"Well, what did the police say?" Maxwell interrupted testily.

The nurse bit her tongue, preventing her original irritated answer from escaping. It was hardly his fault that the hospital was at capacity, accepting transfers from the Manhattan hospitals that were unable to care for their patients because of the power failure. She took a deep breath and answered, "They stayed at the New York hospital. Medevac wouldn't take them." She gestured for them to follow and put her hand on the door of a hospital room. "Your daughter-in-law is in here."

She paused, her hand on the doorknob. "She looks worse than she is," she added softly as she pushed open the door.

Eleanor stepped into the room first, leaving Maxwell with the nurse. "How is my son?" he asked, lowering his voice in deference to the open door.

"He has a collapsed lung. The doctor needs to remove the air from his chest cavity."

"Could- could he di- could we lose him?" Maxwell asked, squashing the fear that rose in his throat.

The nurse touched his arm lightly, her silence providing the answer she wouldn't voice. "There's every reason to be optimistic," she said quietly, as he turned away from her with his hands thrust deep in his pockets. "The doctor will be down to see you shortly."

* * *

Eleanor stood in the doorway, vaguely registering Maxwell's question to the nurse. _Could we lose him? _She swallowed past the lump in her throat and turned the corner into the room. She bit back a gasp when she saw Olivia sitting forlornly next to the empty bed. Dark bruises stood out on her neck like a necklace sent from the depths of hell. A pile of blood stained clothes sat folded in her lap, bagged for posterity. Her normally bright eyes were blood shot and swollen, a testament to the fear coursing though her body. 

With jelly legs, Eleanor walked over to Olivia and crouched before her. She touched her knee lightly, her heart turning when Olivia flinched violently. Her hollow eyes rose to Eleanor's face, reflecting an inner anguish that was painfully consuming her.

Without words, Olivia leaned forward into Eleanor's embrace. Her arms went around her comfortingly, soothing the tense muscles in her back. She felt Olivia's sigh against her neck and she held her a bit tighter, willing a protective cocoon around the traumatized woman.

* * *

The sun rose slowly, casting light on a city that hadn't seen it in hours. Eleanor stood at the window of the New Jersey hospital, watching the sunlight kiss the copper of the Statue of Liberty. The hours had rolled by, from the night made darker by the black out to the rapidly lightening sky. 

She turned slowly, forcing the stiff muscles in her back and neck back to life. Olivia sat quietly, looking blankly ahead. Her still hands rested on the crest of her stomach, absentmindedly stroking the expanding bump. The New York detective had finally arrived and was attempting to question Olivia.

Maxwell sat on the other side of the room, slumped forward with his face in hands. She sighed deeply and claimed the empty seat next to him. She rubbed the back of his neck reassuringly and asked softly, "Do you remember when Gregory was six?"

He looked over, bleary eyes that contemplated each word of her question as if it was the first time he heard the English language. "When he sat on the _Aquitaine_ for a week," she reminded him gently, "learning how to tie all of those knots you insisted he know before you'd teach him how to sail?"

He sat up and smiled, one that was full of wistful reminiscence. "From dawn to nightfall," he continued, returning the strong squeeze she gave him.

"And how he ran into the house, waving the knotted piece of rope in the air like a trophy." She leaned against him, allowing her puffy eyes to close when his arm went around her comfortingly. "He's always been so strong and determined."

Maxwell patted her arm, resting his head against hers. "He's going to survive, Eleanor. We're _not_ going to lose him. Not like this."

Eleanor nodded, the slightest quiver distorting her chin. She closed her heavy eyes and hid her face in his neck. "We can't. Not know." She looked up, meeting his sad eyes. "He has so much to live for," she whispered.

The smack from the detective's leather folder closing echoed in the waiting room. They looked up as the detective stood and faced them grimly. He gestured for them to follow as he walked into the hallway. "She's barely said two words to me," he said flatly, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm.

"Well, what happened?" Maxwell asked as Eleanor drummed her fingers against the base of her neck.

"From the little she told us," he replied, opening his notebook, "and what we found at the scene, an intruder broke into their apartment. Looks like he gained access through the service door in the kitchen. We figure he encountered your son first, then the wife."

"Where the hell is this piece of trash?" Maxwell growled, barely contained by the restraining touch Eleanor placed on his arm.

The detective tucked the notebook back into his shirt pocket and faced them gravely. "On his way to the city morgue," he said quietly and stepped closer to the couple. "Your daughter-in-law defended herself."

Eleanor gasped and clutched her husband's arm. "Oh my-" she trailed off, turning back to the room where Olivia sat.

"I'm not going to get anything else out of her tonight," the detective continued. "There's no point in going back into the city with the power still out, so I'll be down in the hospital cafeteria until I can speak with your son."

Eleanor turned away as the detective left, feeling Maxwell's hand on her back. "I can't believe this," she croaked, pressing her fingers into the temples of her forehead. "It's the nightmare from hell…and I can't wake up."

She felt Maxwell stiffen and she glanced over her shoulder quickly. The nurse that they first spoke to was speaking with a man in green scrubs and gesturing in their direction. As they began to walk towards them, Eleanor grasped Maxwell's hand and whispered his name as she pressed closer.

"Mr. and Mrs. Richards? I'm Dr. Saverino, your son's attending physician." He nodded to the nurse, who left them, and gestured Eleanor and Maxwell back into the small waiting room. "Let's speak in here."

Olivia looked up when they came back in and stood shakily, gripping the arm of the chair for support. "Olivia," Eleanor said, coming to her side, "this is Gregory's doctor." She wrapped her arm around Olivia's waist and turned to the doctor expectantly.

"Your son- and husband- was brought in with a pneumothorax stemming from a knife wound. To put it simply, his right lung collapsed when air filled the pleural cavity. It is impossible for a person to breathe under those conditions." Saverino paused when Eleanor inhaled sharply and Maxwell sank into the waiting room chair.

"How is he now?" Eleanor pressed, gripping Olivia's waist.

"Unconscious, but alive. Your son is very lucky that he lives next door to a thoracic surgeon. She performed a thoracentesis that saved his life, according to the paramedics."

Eleanor felt Olivia flinch and she held her closer as the doctor continued, "Right now, we inserted a chest tube and that allowed the lung to re-expand. A ventilator is assisting to him breathe."

"How long will he be unconscious for?" Maxwell asked.

Saverino paused again, choosing his next words carefully. "We can never say with absolute certainty," he admitted, looking up to Olivia and Eleanor after Maxwell's face fell. But the twin pairs of devastated blue eyes were no easier to face. "His body has been traumatized and it must heal. We've made him comfortable and-"

"I need to see him," Olivia interrupted. The hoarseness that encompassed her voice added a level of pressing authority that no man would be willing to challenge. "Please."

* * *

After the doctor consented to only one visitor at a time, the nurse took Olivia up to the I.C.U. ward. She helped Olivia into the sterile hospital gown and led her down the hall. "He's unconscious," she explained, whispering in her ear as they looked through the observation window, "but you've got every reason to believe he'll hear you. Talk to him. It will help." 

Olivia nodded and stepped into the room, adjusting the paper mask over her mouth. Even through the thin barrier, the pervasive stench of antiseptic overwhelmed her and she stifled a gag. She stood next to the bed, looking down at Gregory's still form. With a steady caution that would make a surgeon proud, she wove her fingers through his and squeezed her eyes shut against the images dancing in her vision.

_The hand coming out of the dark, clamping over her mouth and the hot breath against her ear…_

_Gregory lying on the floor as the knife was forcefully wrenched from his body…_

_The unbearable pressure as his hands pressed into her neck…_

_Knowing she could die with that man's sickly eyes haunting her for all eternity…_

_The warm spray stinging her face and the stench of blood that filled her nostrils as her hand fell away from the knife thrust into his neck…_

_Their neighbor rummaging through her medical bag, ripping open a large needle that she thrust into Gregory's chest…_

She gasped and forced her eyes open, surrounding herself in the pale light that shone down on Gregory's hospital bed. She gently lowered the mask from her mouth and sat down next to the bed. A never-ending stream of tears stung her eyes as she pressed his hand to her lips.

"Gregory, stay. Please…" she repeated in a whisper as she lowered his hand and rested her head on his legs. "Stay for _me_." Tears soaked the thin sheet, darkening the pale blue fabric as her sobs overtook the beeping machines and the rhythmic _whoosh_ of the ventilator.


	66. Lachrymose

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 66: "Lachrymose"

Bill entered the waiting room that his family had colonized, juggling an armload of white paper bags. "Fresh coffee," he announced, setting the bags on the small table, "and bagels."

Eleanor accepted the steaming cup, smiling gratefully. "Thank you, Bill." She popped the plastic top off, inhaling the rich aroma.

"Where's Olivia?" he asked, looking around the empty room as he set out the last of the cups.

She sighed, sipping the black coffee gingerly. "She went back up to Gregory's room."

He nodded. "Is he doing any better?"

"No," she replied flatly.

"And Olivia?"

She shook her head curtly before turning her eyes back to the local news coverage of the blackout. "The same."

With a sigh, Bill sat down next to his mother. Grainy images played across the screen, of vandalized buildings in the Crown Heights and still-burning buildings in the Bushwick sections of Brooklyn. The ever-present news cameras recorded the roving bands that smashed display windows, looting stores of its merchandise.

Eleanor clucked her tongue disapprovingly, watching a group of children carry loaves of bread and boxes of diapers out the damaged window of a local supermarket. "And Mayor Beame says the city is recovering from near bankruptcy?" she scoffed, tapping the side of the cup angrily.

"Mother-" he began.

"What? Am I not allowed to be concerned about the turn this city has taken? We're tax paying citizens, _William_."

He touched her arm gently and leaned in closer. "This isn't about the blackout," he said quietly, prying the paper cup from her iron grip.

"Really?" she snapped, snatching the cup of coffee back from him. She glared up at the television screen, breathing heavily. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, tension snapping across her shoulder blades in fiery band. "I'm sorry," she sighed when she looked up a long moment later.

Gently, Bill wrapped his arm around his mother's shoulders and held her close. "Gregory's too stubborn to not wake up," he said quietly, drawing a small chuckle from Eleanor.

She wiped her eyes, blinking tiredly. "I suppose it's the one time I'll be grateful that he inherited your father's stubborn nature. I'm worried about Olivia," she began slowly as she sat up and turned to Bill. "She's hardly said a word to any of us."

"Give her time, Mother."

Eleanor rubbed her eyes, brushing away a hot tear. "I watch her through the window when she's in with Gregory," she whispered, lowering her hands slowly from her face. "She talks to him non-stop. When she comes out, it's as if she shuts down. She doesn't say anything to any of us."

"Once Gregory wakes up, Olivia will come around," he promised. _He has to wake up_, he thought. _Otherwise there will be nothing left of her_.

* * *

"And you should have seen your face when I offered you up to read to Amelia. You looked terrified in the worst way," Olivia told an unconscious Gregory, her voice hoarse from the trauma to her throat. "It took everything in me _not_ to laugh." 

"_No, no!" Amelia interrupted after a few moments. "You aren't doing the voices good!"_

"_The voices?" he asked as he looked at Olivia. She snickered and covered her mouth with her hand._

_Amelia sighed and addressed Gregory as she would an impertinent child. "You don't sound like the princess. You sound like you. Do a princess voice!"_

"You know, darling? I think that's when I first started to fall in love with you." She cupped his face and leaned closer, gazing intently at his face. "One afternoon and I was already head over heels," she confessed as a wistful smile lit up her drained face.

The quiet consumed them, wrapping deathly shrouds around her and she shivered. If she could pretend just right, he could have been anywhere. Even at home, asleep in their bed. But the large tube inserted in his mouth was a cruel reminder that nothing could be further than the truth.

"Gregory?" She combed her fingers gently through his hair, wishing for even the slightest reaction. But he was still. In the barest of whispers she admitted, "I'm afraid to close my eyes." She looked up, warmth comforting her as she thought of the way his eyes twinkled when he smiled. "I feel his hands on my neck every time I do."

The _whoosh_ of the ventilator was the only response that came. Her face fell and despite the overwhelming desire to cry, she couldn't. There were no tears in her left to shed. She latched onto his hand, cupping it close to her face. "I'm afraid, darling," she sighed into his palm. "You're a part of me. I've lost track of where I end and you begin. What is my world without you in it?"

A gentle wave fluttered within her and she pressed her hand into her stomach. Emotion rose in her throat as she leaned forward and gently rested her head on his shoulder, careful not to disturb the wound in his chest. "What is _our_ world without you?"

"_Your lil' bastard's next."_

She jumped away from Gregory's shoulder, pressing her hands over her ears. His cackle echoed in her ears sending a cold chill down her spine. She hid her face in her hands, resting her elbows on the mattress of the hospital bed. "Stop," she whispered, her face wrinkling in distaste as the flesh of her stomach crawled. His hand had caressed her stomach, violating that which was most sacred about her pregnancy.

"_It's rather incredible that such a small thing can beget such destruction."_

Her hands fell away from her face, the beeping of the bedside machines filling the silence as she sat up. The mechanical noises fell to the way side as she turned her eyes up, gazing thoughtfully at Gregory's still face.

"_Money makes all the difference," Gregory had reasoned with the killer clutching her. _

"_It's already made the difference," the killer retorted._

Her lips parted as her mouth curled into an "o". Her breath came out in rasps as her mind worked furiously.

"_If she hates you as much as you say, don't you think then that she's thrilled to be rid of you?"_

_Her hair whipped around as her head jerked. Her near violet eyes flashed, her lips pursed so tightly they nearly disappeared. "Yes," she spit out, "but there's one thing that thrills her even more."_

"_What's that?"_

"_Revenge. For wronging him."_

"_Liv, you didn't," he insisted. "You know that."_

_She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes against the static in her head. "I do…but she doesn't."_

Her breath caught and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand.

"_Perhaps the real destruction has yet to begin."_

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut as dry heaves racked her body. Her hands locked around the chair's armrests, pressing angry red lines into her palm.

"_Julianna can't stand me. She never could."_

"Oh my god," she gasped as her stomach turned and bile rose in her throat.

"_If I divorced AJ, his mother would hunt me down and murder me."_

Staring blankly at Gregory, she whispered, "Julianna." Like a light flickering on in the night, a sudden calm surrounded her. She leaned down to Gregory, cupping his cheek as she whispered, "I'll be back before you wake up, darling."

She pressed her lips to his, swallowing the regret she felt when she met his unresponsive mouth. Pulling back, she smoothed down the unruly lock of hair that fell to his forehead. "I promise."

Outside the hospital room, she pulled off the hospital gown, throwing it aside as she headed for the bank of elevators. She felt detached from her body, as if she was watching her own movements rather than feeling them. The sound of her beating heart drowned out her raspy breathing as she turned the corner and walked straight into Bill.

"Olivia!" He grasped her shoulders, holding her at bay as he looked her over. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, stepping back from his embrace and his ever-critical gaze. "Yes." She swallowed hard, considering him for a long moment. "Actually, Bill, you're just the person I was looking for."

He looked past her to Gregory's room. "Is he awake?"

Her face fell and she shook her head slowly. "No, not yet," she emphasized, taking his arm and gently leading him to the elevator. "But I need your help."

"Anything."

She smiled, touching his arm for a long moment before replying, "I need your car."

"Anything but that," he said, shaking his head. "You're in no condition to be going anywhere."

"Bill, I'm fine. I've got a few bruises," she said lightly, barely able to contain a shiver, "and a bump on the back of my head, but it's not a concussion." She squeezed his wrist, her eyes widening in a silent plea. "Please. I need to go into the city."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the keys and dangling them in front of her. Her hand flew at them, her attempt to pull them from his grasp failing miserably. "One condition," he cautioned as she tugged at the key ring. "I come with you."

She froze, locking eyes with him and holding his stare. Her determination met his and she saw his unwillingness to concede. "Fine," she sighed, snatching the keys back after he released them into her palm. "But I'm driving."


	67. Let the Devil Wear Black

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 67: "Let the Devil Wear Black"

Bill sighed, drumming his fingers on the leather armrest as his car inched across the George Washington Bridge. In the time since they had left the hospital, they had barely made it to the other side of the suspension bridge. Waves of heat rose off the ground and crackled in the hazy distance.

He glanced out the corner of his eye, watching Olivia. She sat ramrod straight in the driver's seat, her hands clenched tight around the polished steering wheel. Other than asking for directions, she hadn't uttered a word to him.

As the traffic began to move forward and Olivia shifted into second gear, she cleared her throat and asked hoarsely, "Do you know how Gregory and I met?"

"Of course. At a cocktail party in California."

She smirked and brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. "I suppose that would be the simple explanation."

He paused, watching her with great interest. "Nothing is ever simple."

"No," she sighed, not without a drop of resignation. "I suppose not." She tapped the steering wheel before her hands slid down to the base. "I'm sure that Gregory told you I was still married when we met and became…involved."

He nodded, not that she noticed for her eyes never left the road. "He did."

She sighed, swallowing hard before she began softly, "I never realized the extent of my misery or just how poor my marriage was until we met. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to feel anything."

With a secretive smile, she glanced in the side mirror and changed lanes as a pocket opened. "It sounds cliché," she continued, "but I didn't know what love was until I met Gregory. It was like a curtain had been raised and I was seeing everything for the first time." She heard him chuckle under his breath and she asked, "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," he replied, rubbing away the smile on his face. "I just remember standing in Gregory's office nearly a year ago, listening to him say practically the same thing."

She finally glanced at him, her eyes lighting up for the first time in hours. "Really?"

"Of course. You're the only woman I know that's had that effect on him. You captured his heart."

"He captured mine," she whispered, turning back to the road. "When I finally left AJ, it was if I finally started to live my life. We both wanted to move on from the past."

"Your prior marriage, you mean."

"Yes. And it's time we _finally_ did just that. It's time to move on."

He frowned, confusion wrinkling his face as he turned to her. "Just who exactly are we going to see?"

"My soon to be former mother-in-law," she said, accelerating hard as she passed the stalled car that was causing the traffic delay. Hot wind rushed through the window, fanning her long hair around her head.

"Olivia-," he began and she could hear the caution in his voice.

"It was Julianna," she said simply. "She was the one behind this. _All_ of this."

His head snapped towards her. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that she hired a man to break into our apartment and kill Gregory, myself, and our baby."

Bill didn't realize that he had stopped breathing until he was forced to gasp for air. "Olivia, you can't be serious."

"I am," she replied, glaring out at the horizon. "As serious as a heart attack. I know it was Julianna."

"Can you prove it?"

She bit the corner of her lip and shook her head regretfully after a long moment of silence. "No," she confessed, glancing over at him. "But I don't need proof for what I'm going to do."

"What are you talking about?" he pressed. "What _are_ you going to do?"

"Bill," she sighed, practically in disappointment that he even had to ask, "I thought you knew better. All good things to those that wait."

* * *

Julianna leaned back comfortably in the armchair as cool air whispered out of the air conditioning vent. She sighed in contentment and took a rewarding sip of the Pinot Noir. The rich wine was like velvet down her throat and she closed her eyes, humming along with the soft jazz coming out of the speakers. 

"It's good to have the power back," AJ stated as he walked into the sitting room.

She opened her eyes and nodded. "It's about time the generator began to work."

He stood by the window, pulling back the curtain as he looked out across the skyline. "It's still so hard to believe. All the power gone…like _that_," he said, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

With his back to the window, Julianna rolled her eyes and swirled the wine inside the glass. "Yes, incredible," she agreed with an enthusiasm that tested the bounds of sincerity. But it went over his head.

"I feel rather guilty enjoying the fruits of electricity when millions are without."

"Don't concern yourself with that. There will always be someone without something." She sat up, crossing her leg as she put her nose to the wine glass and inhaled. "An excellent bouquet," she sighed before taking another sip.

He glanced over his shoulder and shook his head ruefully. The woman sitting in front of him was practically a stranger. Where had the compassionate woman he knew all his life gone? Dead and buried with his father? She looked up at him, her eyebrow arched in question as her eyes met his. He smiled cordially and turned back to the window.

The doorbell pealed through the room, reverberating off the vaulted ceilings and marble floor. Julianna frowned, her ears ringing as she leaned back into the silk cushion. "AJ," she commanded, refilling her wine glass, "get the door."

* * *

Bill watched as Olivia's eyes rose above the elevator doors. The elegant needle slowly drifted through the thirties and he reached out, touching her arm lightly. Her puffy and bloodshot eyes flickered to his, full of questioning wonder. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he asked quietly. 

She tilted her head, contemplating his question. "I have to," she said. An underlying wheeze accompanied her voice, adding a touch of melancholy to her words. "Otherwise, it will _never_ be over." She turned back to the door, affixing her gaze on the sealed metal doors.

He sighed in resignation and stood behind her as they moved in on the forty-fourth floor. Through the distorted reflection in the doors, he saw her hands drop and graze her stomach. "It ends now," she whispered.

The elevator operator cleared his throat as the elevator ground to a stop. "Penthouse one," he said quietly as the doors rolled open.

Olivia brushed past the doors and considered the vestibule she stepped into. A large Oriental rug lay over the gray marble floor. Potted plants with oversize leaves stood at attention on either side of the double doors. A small chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting glittering light across the foyer.

Passing through the soft glow, her sandals clicked across the buffed floor. She felt Bill behind her, a comforting presence that surrounded her as she rang the bell. A series of melodic chimes echoed from behind the heavy wood door.

She glanced over her shoulder, flashing him a reassuring smile as the numerous locks clicked open. "Trust me." She turned back to the door, freezing in surprise when it revealed the person opening it. "AJ."

He gaped openly at her, silence filling the short distance between them. "Olivia…" She fidgeted under his gaze as his eyes swept from her face, to her bruised neck and finally to her pregnant stomach. "You're pregnant?" he asked in a horrified whisper.

She bit the corner of her lip, watching as a spectrum of emotions played across his face. "Yes," she said simply.

AJ sighed incredulously, gripping the edge of the door as he leaned against it. His eyes rose back to the bruises ringing her neck. "What happened to you?"

Her shoulders rose as she unconsciously fingered the flesh of her neck. "Just a little accident," she said cryptically as she took a step towards him. "AJ, I'm here to see Julianna."

He eyed the man behind her, who looked enough like Gregory that it gave him pause. "Why? What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing." She brushed past him confidently and stepped into the foyer. "We had an appointment…didn't she tell you?"

His hazel eyes narrowed as her voice echoed in the foyer. "No," he admitted as he glanced over his shoulder, looking to the open doorway.

Olivia followed his gaze and patted his shoulder, talking behind herself as she headed for the door. "Let's not keep her. You know how impatient she can be."

* * *

Julianna exhaled slowly, a thin stream of silver smoke emanating from her curved lips. Her blouse whistled against the chair as she stood, silk on silk, and walked to the window. Cool air blew in through the air conditioning vents as hot sun warmed the windowpane. 

A voice echoed from the foyer, drifting in through the open door. She turned away from the window, inhaling deeply as Olivia walked into the sitting room. Her jaw set, locking tight as her eyes froze. It was as if the skies opened and released a hell on Earth. Olivia stood before her expectantly, her blue eyes bright and gazing steadily at her. Stood before her…alive.

She exhaled, her hand perched on her hip as she came around the sofa. "Well, well, well," she said softly.

"Julianna. Surprised?"

She cocked her head, amused at the defiance thrown across the room at her. "To see you?"

Olivia nodded, facing her from across the other side of the coffee table. "To see me still breathing."

AJ and Bill stood against the wall, watching the women assess each other as a gladiator would a lion. Tension hissed in the thick silence, leaving them to wonder just who was the predator.

Julianna chuckled, nudging the ash from the tip of her cigarette. "You never struck me as the melodramatic type, Olivia."

It was Olivia's turn to laugh, a low snicker that rose from deep in her throat. "I'm surprised I struck you at all."

"Don't flatter yourself, _dear_." Condescension dripped from Julianna's mouth, crystallizing noticeably on that last word.

Olivia shrugged, her shapely mouth dipping into a frown as she turned away. Her eyes moved across the large room, falling on the luxurious details. "You seem very comfortable here," she commented, her fingers grazing the soft petals of a fragrant flower. "Living in New York must suit you."

Julianna's eyes narrowed, hardening to icy slits as Olivia's gaze flickered noticeably to AJ and Bill. "I suppose."

She nodded deeply, her long dark hair settling around her shoulders. "Suppose?" Her brow furrowed as she scrunched her mouth in thought, shaking her head after a long moment as she walked back to her. "You're not a woman that 'supposes', Julianna." She leaned in, whispering loudly, "You deal in facts, yes?"

AJ cleared his throat, stepping into the spotlight that the women held. "Olivia, what are you talking about? Maman, what's going on?"

Julianna shrugged, gesturing to Olivia. "You know I never understood this woman, AJ. Ask her."

"Yes, AJ," Olivia interrupted as he opened his mouth. "Ask _this woman_. Asking questions seems to be in the fashion today." She walked to his side, her hand resting on the crest of her stomach. "So, where were you when the lights went out?"

AJ glanced at his mother, noting the darkness blooming in her eyes. She was still as stone, fixed to the seemingly benign expression on Olivia's face. He glanced nervously behind him at Bill, who leaned against the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest. He ignored AJ's questioning gaze and gestured with his chin for him to turn back to Olivia.

The silence began to consume them and she frowned, clucking her tongue in disapproval. "Come now, don't be shy. I, personally was at home. With Gregory," she added pointedly. "We were discussing our honeymoon."

With a sigh, AJ collapsed into the armchair. Olivia spared him only a passing glance before turning back to Julianna. "Of course, that sort of talk is premature, given that I am still legally married to AJ, but we couldn't help ourselves," her voice trailed away as she looked off into space. Was it only yesterday night that she sang the virtues of a Florentine honeymoon? Only yesterday that she sat cuddled against him on their sofa, safe in his comforting embrace? Only yesterday that they had shopped for furniture to put in the nursery?

AJ cleared his throat as silence sank around them. He watched her quietly, not only still in shock from finding her on his mother's doorstep, but finding her _pregnant_ on his mother's doorstep. Her face was drawn, her eyes mournful and downcast. "What is it you want, Olivia?" he finally asked.

"She's clearly lost her mind, dear." Julianna shrugged dismissively and rescued her glass of wine from obscurity on the end table. "Show her the door."

Olivia's eyes hardened as Julianna turned away, walking slowly to the door. "Maybe you'll need to pay him too."

Frozen in the doorway, Julianna turned slowly with a blank expression on her face. "Pay him?"

"To do your dirty work. Just like you paid that man last night- to kill me."

"Kill you?" she asked, confusion falling across her face.

"And Gregory and our child."

Julianna chuckled into the bowl of her wine glass before taking a large sip. "Why would I need to do that?"

"Because stalling the divorce wasn't enough anymore."

"Please," Julianna snickered, rolling the stem of the nearly empty wine glass between her fingers. "I can assure that I had nothing to do with whatever _incident_ took place last night."

Olivia frowned, tapping her chin in mock thought. "So, Gregory lying unconscious in the hospital was simply an accident?" She gestured to the base of her throat where angry bruises discolored her flesh. "I did these to myself?"

"New York is a dangerous city. Perhaps the suburbs might be better suited to your nature?"

"Perhaps. After all, nothing this dangerous ever happened to me in Sunset Beach, did it AJ?" she asked pointedly. He sat back in the armchair and waved her away, wanting no part of the conversation. "And perhaps this intruder, and whoever paid him, was also morally offended that my husband wasn't the father of my child." She paused dramatically, wincing in pained regret as she concluded, "Why else would he refer to my child as a _bastard_?"

"Because he is?" Julianna asked.

Olivia raised her eyes slowly, meeting Julianna's. Fury burned in her blue eyes, crystallizing into words as she countered, "How did you know we're having a boy?"

Julianna opened her mouth as AJ looked up questioningly and she continued, "We only found out ourselves a few days ago. How did _you_ find out?"

"AJ, get this sick woman out of my sight," Juliana snapped as her cool and disinterested façade shattered into a thousand little pieces. "She's insane."

She shot forward, grabbing Julianna's shoulder as she pushed her into the wall and the wine glass dropped to the floor. "I may have nearly had the life choked out of me, but I assure you, I am _not_ insane." Her eyes burned holes into Julianna's, searching them for the truth she knew to be there. "It was you that brought that maniac into our lives," she insisted, shoving her back against the unforgiving wall for emphasis. "And I am going to tell _everyone_."

"Olivia-" AJ interjected softly as Bill stood behind him.

"Everyone," she promised. "The police. Every gossip columnist, every socialite. Every dinner party I go to, I will tell this story. And people will finally know who the truly insane one is." She gripped her arm, digging her iron fingers into Julianna's flesh. "You'll be ruined. Exposed and naked. Armando's money can't save you now."

Julianna's eyes flickered, first from Olivia and then to AJ. They watered instantly, overflowing with tears as she blinked at her son. "AJ," she cried, "help me."

He cocked his head, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Is it true?"

"AJ-"

"Answer me!" His bellow echoed around them, causing Juliana to flinch.

"Of course it's true," Olivia snapped. She threw Julianna's arm away, wiping her hands to rid herself of the woman's touch. "And it's going to make her lose everything. Her power, her position, Armando's money. You won't need any of that in prison."

"Prison?" Julianna cackled, hysterical laughter overtaking her.

"Criminals go to prison, Julianna," Olivia explained. "You're fortunate that gray is a good color on you."

"Like hell," she growled, shoving Olivia aside as she began to pace the length of the room. "I didn't spend nearly thirty years playing the merry wife of one of the richest men in the world to end up in prison." She threw her hands to the heavens, her voice raising several octaves as she shrieked, "I made myself the grieving widow, for god's sake! That still means something, damnit!"

Olivia glanced sideways at Bill, shrugging as he placed a protective grasp on her arm. AJ lunged forward, grabbing his mother by the shoulders as he shook her violently. "What are you talking about?" he shouted. "You made yourself a widow? What does that mean!"

Julianna blinked, her bogus tears sending her heavy eye makeup in runny tears down her cheeks. "Answer me!" he shouted again as her teeth clattered together from his forceful shake. "Right now!"

She wrenched away from him, freeing herself for the briefest of moments before he captured her by her wrists. "Everything I have ever done," she hissed, struggling against his grip, "has been for the good of this family."

"For the family?" he scoffed. "FOR THE FAMILY! You KILLED the family!" He clenched her shirt, dragging her closer to him. "You destroyed everything this family ever was," he spat, disgust clinging to every syllable, "or ever could be."

"AJ-"

"You couldn't just let it be," he whispered loudly, his face falling as he saw Olivia out the corner of his eye. He looked at her for a long moment, shrugging helplessly. "I'm sorry." She nodded slowly, silently accepting his offering.

AJ turned back to his mother, his hands falling away from the blouse. "From now on, whatever happens, happens. I wash my hands of you."

Her eyes widened, black coal smudged beneath her eyes from where her make up ran. "AJ…"

"No more," he said, deflated. He shook his head, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "No more." Turning to Olivia, he looked at her for a moment before saying, "You'll have your divorce. No more delays."

Olivia nodded, words dying on her lips as he left the room. She turned to Julianna as she felt Bill pulling her away. The other woman had turned her back on them, gazing out the large window to the sweltering skyline. Her shoulders were hung, her head lowered in defeat.

Bill led her out of the penthouse, repeatedly stabbing the down button. He exhaled deeply, gazing down at the floor. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"I think so." She rubbed her arms, willing away the chill that swept through her. "I think we're all going to be alright."

* * *

Julianna stepped tentatively onto the balcony, immediately embraced by the oppressive heat. She inched across the stone, a glass of scotch tight in her hand. Looking up towards the sky, she blinked against the sunlight. She was up high enough that her view was unobstructed. "Nearest to heaven," she mumbled, gulping the scotch. 

"She has no proof," she reasoned, smoothing down her hair as she stood tall on the wrought iron bench. "None at all- and she says I'm insane! Tell everyone," she muttered. "How dare they judge me? Two faced bastards."

She knocked her head back and drained her glass dry. "No proof," she gasped as her mind raced. That hillbilly gorilla must have talked! Turned over like sinking ship! "That imbecile," she growled, snarling down at East 50th Street below her.

Prison.

She shivered despite the overwhelming heat as phantom handcuffs locked around her wrists. An overwhelming stench filled her nostrils, stifling her senses as she teetered on the ledge. "No proof," she mumbled with less heart and certainty than before.

With delicate precision, she held her arm out before her, releasing the crystal tumbler. It fell from her hands, cutting through the air as it fell through the mist. "I'm Mrs. Armando Deschanel," she announced, looking out at the skyline with a confident stare.

She turned her eyes down, looking at the street over forty floors below her. With the barest of giggles, she whispered, "They'll _never_ take that away from me."

* * *

Maxwell watched with renewed interest as Eleanor tapped her foot in quick staccato against the linoleum. "Sweetheart, it's going to be alright." 

She smiled bashfully and crossed her legs, forcing the jitter to a stop. "I know," she admitted, squeezing his hand tightly. "I just wish they were back."

"And who says wishes don't come true?"

Eleanor jumped to her feet, embracing Bill quickly before wrapping her arms around Olivia. "Where have you two been?" she asked as Maxwell pressed his hand into her back.

Olivia and Bill shared a long look before she explained, "I needed to take care of something."

"And I just went along for the ride," Bill added, sending his mother a reassuring smile.

Olivia pulled away from Eleanor's embrace and turned to Gregory's hospital room as she asked, "How is Gregory?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Maxwell suggested as Eleanor smiled broadly.

Her brow wrinkled as she watched them thoughtfully for a long moment. "Excuse me," she murmured.

His room was quiet when she entered, his body still on the bed. She hovered over him, tentatively touching his hand. "Darling?" she asked softly, kissing his cheek softly. "I'm back."

His eyes fluttered open, flashing warmly as he blinked sleepily at her. She gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as he whispered, "Hi, Liv."


	68. Of Lionhearts, East 88th Street & Septem

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 68: "Of Lionhearts, East 88th Street and September's Shine"

_early August 1977_

The doctor stood at the foot of the hospital bed, engrossed in Gregory's medical file. For his part, Gregory glared at the doctor and sighed pointedly. Olivia smirked and patted his hand sympathetically. "Forgive me," the doctor apologized as he looked up and closed the file, "but the progress you've made in the last month is extraordinary. To put it bluntly: your recovery is simply remarkable."

Never one to mince words, Gregory replied, "When am I being released?"

The doctor paused. "I don't see why you shouldn't be released at the end of the week." Olivia gripped Gregory's hand in silent excitement as the doctor continued, "Until then, just rest up."

"Don't worry," Olivia assured the doctor over Gregory's frustrated sigh. "He'll rest."

"Liv," he argued as the doctor left the hospital room, "I've been resting for a month. To say that it's old is an understatement."

"Poor Gregory," she cooed, smoothing the thin blanket that lay over his legs. "Being forced to lie in bed all day and having me wait on you."

"I wasn't complaining about that part."

She rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. "That would be the one thing you love."

"One of the few simple pleasures I've got," he teased, squeezing her hand.

"Ha ha," she groaned, gently leaning against him and placing the softest of kisses on his lips. She giggled when he cupped her face and drew her closer. Wrinkling her nose, she explained, "It tickles."

Gregory frowned and rubbed the newly grown beard. "You told me you liked the rustic look."

"Did I?" Her fingers brushed over the beard before she screwed her face and shook her head. "Well…"

He chuckled at her indecision and took her hand, pulling her back to him. She rested her head gently on his shoulder. He sighed and drew her closer. "You're not hurting me you know."

She glanced up, guilt clouding her blue eyes. "I know," she whispered, tracing the outline of his finger.

"The stitches are on the other side," he said simply, kissing her head. "I'm fine."

"But-"

"_Fine_," he repeated. "The doctor even thinks so. So, don't worry."

"I won't," she said with an insistence that made it possible to believe her. She closed her eyes, lapsing into silence against the rise and fall of Gregory's chest. "George Burkhardt called."

"Oh."

"AJ is going to the Dominican Republic to finalize the divorce. George is flying down with him on my behalf." She felt him exhale and she opened her eyes, looking up with a smile. "After that, I just need to sign a few documents and it's all over-"

"Finally," they said in unison.

"And to think," Gregory mused quietly, "that all it took was-"

"Julianna's death," she finished softly, looking down at his diamond on her finger. She thought back to the hours after Gregory had first opened his eyes and the exciting relief that filled her. The revitalized energy and overwhelming happiness that coursed through her veins came to a sudden stop when Eleanor came to her with the news.

Even now, several weeks later, the details were unclear. What was definite was that Julianna had plunged forty-four floors to her death. An open decanter of scotch was found on the balcony, along with one of her Italian leather pumps. As to whether or not the fall was an accident, no one could say. But one could draw their own conclusions.

"So," she continued, "your mother, Bette and I have slowly started planning the wedding. We're thinking September, before the weather turns into autumn."

He nodded, taking hold of her hand again. "That's great. Liv," he began, meeting her eyes, "when you told me about Julianna-"

"Gregory," she interrupted, "I told you everything that happened because I wanted to put it behind us so that we could move on with our lives for the first time in nearly a year."

"I know, I know." His finger rubbed over her knuckle, a small act that sent waves of comfort through her. "One woman's insanity and we almost lost everything."

"But we didn't." She wrapped her arm low around his waist and turned into his chest.

"It's because of you, you know." She peeked up at him, unshed tears shining in the blue, as he continued, "You've got the heart of a lion."

* * *

_late August 1977_

"You are both going to love this property," the realtor gushed, turning the lock and pushing open the heavy door. "It has so many possibilities."

Gregory and Olivia followed her through the foyer, polished marble beneath their feet. "How many floors?" he asked as Olivia wandered through an archway.

"Five."

"Five!" Olivia exclaimed.

The realtor smiled and nodded. "It sounds like quite a bit, doesn't it? But this home is a gem. Seven bedrooms, eat in kitchen, dining room, sitting room, library, family room, solarium, a modest ballroom, a renovated rooftop, six terraces, and quarters for the help." She took a deep breath before continuing, "And when you consider the location, who could ask for more? You're less than five minutes from Central Park. You have shady, tree-lined streets with hardly any traffic congestion. You'd never believe you were in New York City."

Olivia nodded, turning her attention to the soaring twenty-foot ceiling. "It just seems like so much."

"Well-"

"Give us a few moments to walk through the house on our own," Gregory said, taking Olivia's hand and leading her back through the foyer.

The realtor shrugged. "Of course. I should tell you though that you aren't the only ones interested."

"We'll be down when we're through," he assured her, following Olivia up the wide staircase.

Olivia turned to him and smirked. "Are you going to let her hustle you like that?" she asked softly.

Gregory scoffed. "Ten-to-one, when we get back, she'll tell us that she's got other offers on the house."

"It wouldn't surprise me if that was the truth. Darling, look at all this." She stepped onto the second floor and turned in a circle. "We don't need all of this. What are we going to do with all these rooms?"

He shrugged and leaned casually against the corner of the wall. "Fill them with children?"

Rolling her eyes couldn't overpower the wide grin that lit up her face. "Let's get through this one first," she suggested, patting her stomach.

"Not to mention all of the furniture we've got in storage."

"God, that's right," she sighed, letting him wrap his arm around her as she leaned against him. "How did two people ever acquire so much?"

"Be fair," he teased. "Most of it is for the baby. So the question you should ask is: how did someone not even born yet acquire so much?"

She giggled and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I don't know," she sighed, following the remaining stairs with her eyes. "What do you think? About the house?"

They wandered down the hall, turning into the first room they encountered. Empty shelves lined the walls and sunlight gleamed off the parquet flooring. "I remember arguing that we should leave the city entirely."

"And I," she shot back, "remember pointing out that you weren't the type of person to live in the suburbs. You'd be bored in three days time." His smile was his agreement and she smirked triumphantly.

She turned to the window, looking down at the quiet street. A woman pushing a pram passed below, followed by a small child clutching a dog's leash. "We could be happy here," she said softly, turning her eyes up to the sky.

"We would be happy anywhere," he answered, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"Do you like it?" she asked, leaning against him as a beam of sunlight baptized them in warmth.

"I do if you do."

She frowned. "Darling, that's not an answer."

"Yes, Liv. I like the house. I like that it's available immediately because I'm not sure how much more I can take of our current living arrangement."

Olivia gasped in mock horror and jabbed him playfully in the ribs. "I thought it was wonderful of your parents to let us stay with them."

"Of course it was. But I'll be thrilled when it's just you and I and I've got you all to myself."

"Naughty," she laughed, taking hold of his hand as they walked down the stairs. "Though you'd better take advantage of it while you can. In a few months, we'll have the baby."

"All the more reason we should move in now," he whispered in her ear, noticing the realtor waiting at the foot of the staircase for them, "and take advantage of the little time we have left."

"You make it sound like a death sentence," she said softly as the realtor cleared her throat.

"Did I mention the schools in the area?" she asked urgently, ticking them off on her fingers. "Dalton, Spence, Trevor Day, Convent of-"

"We'll take it," Gregory interrupted, surely sparing them from another one of her breathless tirades.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "You both will be so happy here."

"We hope," Olivia said, following her back through the foyer.

"I'll get the paperwork started and notify the seller." She smiled brightly, eagerly watching the couple. "How soon can you vacate your current residence?"

Olivia cleared her throat, taking Gregory's hand as she said, "We can't go back…ever."

As the realtor's lips began to form a question, Gregory interjected, "We've already sold it back to the building's owners."

Satisfied, the realtor said, "I'll let the realtor know you'd like to move in as soon as possible. Let me just get some papers from my briefcase for you to review now."

As the realtor left the room, Olivia sat on the staircase, her hands folded gently over her stomach. "Tired?" Gregory asked.

She nodded, leaning against the column at the base of the staircase. "Don't be surprised if I fall asleep in the car on the ride back to Oyster Bay."

"I'll try not to be," he said, smiling down at her.

* * *

_mid-September 1977_

The windows of Maxwell and Eleanor's home were flung open, eagerly accepting the crisp air blowing off the harbor. Bright sunshine twinkled overhead, bathing the grounds in golden rays.

Caroline Richards crossed her arms and glared at her mother's reflection in the mirror. "Ow, Mommy!" she howled, wincing as Madeline curled her auburn hair into ringlets.

Madeline smiled apologetically and fluffed her oldest daughter's hair lightly. "Sorry, sweetheart. But there now…you look lovely!"

The nine year old appraised her reflection suspiciously, turning her head to see it from different angles before she whimpered, "It still hurts, Mommy!"

She crouched to her daughter's level, their faces touching as she asked, "Don't you want to be the prettiest flower girl at Uncle Gregory's wedding?"

Shrugging, the child tapped her foot and uncrossed her arms. "No," she mumbled, tugging at a long curl until her mother lightly slapped her hand away.

"Not even for a big piece of cake?" Madeline asked, gently tickling her reluctant daughter's sides until her frown gave way to a toothless grin and a frantic giggle.

"Stop Mommy!" Caroline shrieked, pushing her mother's fingers away from her sides.

"That's my girl," she said, kissing her daughter's rosy cheek. "You're ready. Let's see if everyone else is."

Caroline nodded eagerly and ran down the hall, her patent leather shoes clicking on the hard wood. "Be careful!" Madeline called out, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Don't fall!"

Eleanor waited at the top of the stairs, linking arms with her daughter-in-law as she passed. "She's all Bill," she confided. "Never sitting still for a moment."

"And in the fact that I finally got her into a dress and she's just a bundle of nerves."

"Speaking of nerves," Eleanor chuckled, "I just saw Gregory downstairs."

"He's not nervous, is he?"

"Gregory Richards? Nervous?" Eleanor scoffed. "Of course not." She rested her hand on the doorknob and met Madeline's green eyes. "Now anxious? That's an entirely different story."

She pushed open the door and stepped into the guest room that the bridal party, led by Bette, had commandeered. The balcony doors stood open, gently ruffling the hem of Bette's dress. "I tell you, Livie," she said to the closed bathroom door, "you couldn't have asked for a better day."

Olivia's laugh floated through the door. "And you were so convinced it would rain."

"May I remind you of my Girl Scout motto? Always be prepared, Livie. _Always_."

The door opened and Olivia stepped out, the hem of her gown skimming the floor. "You were never a scout."

A chorus of sighs greeted her and Eleanor stepped forward, grasping her hand. "You look radiant, my dear."

Olivia smiled and kissed her cheek, her blue eyes glowing with excitement. "Thank you, Eleanor," she said softly as her grandmother touched her shoulder.

"You look lovely," Peg Kelly said, squeezing her granddaughters hand lightly. "Like an angel."

"I've heard that before," Olivia replied, unable to keep a smile from lighting up her face.

"But this time it's true." She wiped a tear out of her eye, her handkerchief clutched tight in her hand.

"Oh Gran…"

"Flowers, flowers everywhere," Bette sang, her arms laden with bunches of flowers. "Something for everyone."

"Mommy, can we get married now?" little Lucy Richards asked, tugging at the sash of her dress.

Madeline nodded and knelt down, smoothing her middle daughter's hair as Olivia smiled patiently. "Yes," Olivia repeated, "can we get married _now_?"

The hairdresser smiled apologetically and tucked the last wisp of baby's breath into Olivia's dark hair. "Done!" she said triumphantly.

"Thank God," Bette sighed gratefully. "Let's get this show on the road. Kids first, then the mothers, you're first." She turned back to Olivia, grinning eagerly. "Forever starts now, Livie."

Olivia stood back, content to let Bette direct the bridal party. She stood at the window, her bouquet of lilies, roses and hydrangeas tucked beneath her nose. The guests were slowly making their way through the garden to the rows of chairs laid out on the soft grass. The soft breeze carried up the sound of a door closing below and Bill's voice: "-and the best man has responsibilities, namely the bachelor party. The penultimate bash. And where did we end up? Yankee Stadium."

She peeked over the balcony railing saw Gregory and Bill below, puffing on cigars. "A four to three win, Bill," she heard Gregory reply. "It can't be a bad sign."

Giggling, she shook her head as they surrendered their cigars to the butler and began walking across the rolling lawn. Gregory's stride was purposeful, working the sharp creases of his trousers. As if he felt the weight of her eyes on his back, he suddenly glanced over his shoulder. He met her gaze and turned around, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the lawn.

She stood straighter, hiding her bashful wave behind her fragrant bouquet. His smile bridged the distance between them, filling her with giddy warmth as she blew a kiss to him. He rested his fist over his heart and tapped it once, saying more than words could ever dream of communicating.

"You ready, love?"

She turned to the question as her father stood next to her. "I've been ready for this my entire life, Poppy."

Thomas smiled warmly, following her gaze down to the lawn. "Marry in September's shine and your living will be rich and fine," he said softly, reciting the nursery rhyme of his daughter's childhood.

She turned back to Gregory, feeling his gaze blanket her inch of her flesh. She smiled down at him one last time before she linked arms with her. "Rich and fine?" she asked as they left the bedroom. "After everything, I'll settle for fine."


	69. Epilogue

_**NOTE: It's been two and a half years, but the end is here. To those that followed this story, thank you and I hope you enjoyed it. A special thank to all that were kind enough to leave feedback. It meant a lot.**_

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 69: "Epilogue"

"_I've been ready for this my entire life, Poppy."_

_And she had been, hadn't she, Thomas thought to himself as he stood with Olivia, watching Bette saunter down the aisle. Ready and waiting for the moment when she found the other half of her soul. He patted her arm, feeling the way she shifted from foot to foot. "You're not nervous, are you?" he whispered in her ear._

_She grinned, bashful surprise tingeing her cheeks a rosy red. The shear sleeves of her gown rustled in the breeze as a violin chord wavered. She turned to her father, squeezing his hand as they stood at the head of the aisle. "Of course not," she replied as the guests stood and turned expectantly. She squared her shoulders and gripped the overflowing bouquet in front of her. _

_Thomas marveled at the ease with which she conquered the petal-strewn aisle. The full skirt of her gown floated in sheer layers on the mid-September breeze. Her arm lay nestled with his, but her gaze lay in front of her. To the end of the aisle, where Gregory stood._

_Eleanor watched Gregory take Olivia's hand, drawing her closer to him. He leaned close, whispering something in her ear that brought a wide smile to her face. Eleanor gently wiped the corner of her eye, reaching for Maxwell's hand as the ceremony began._

_Olivia's hand latched onto Gregory's as the priest's words fell on deaf ears. She could only hear him, the sound of his breathing filling her world. She could only see him, gazing into his dark eyes and basking in the warmth she found. His vows washed over her, words of promise and cherish that were for her ears only._

_Gregory looked down, watching as Olivia slid the gold band onto his finger. Her hand trembled slightly against his and he squeezed it gently. Her blue eyes turned up to him, her long hair fanning around her face. Her lips curled into a smile as his hand inched up her arm, pulling her closer before the priest could pronounce them wed. _

_He cupped her face as his lips found hers, pressing against them. The applause from their guests faded to a dull hush around them. Their kiss lingered, born on the promise of eternity. It was finally theirs for the taking. _

"Daddy?"

Gregory's head snapped forward, drawn to the soft voice that cut through his reverie. "Maggie."

The sixteen year old cocked her head quizzically, touching his arm. "Are you alright?" she asked, concern clouding her sapphire blue eyes. "You look a thousand miles away."

"Well", he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "that's because I was."

She smiled as he led her back to the party. "Senility setting in already?"

He chuckled. "Oh, I think I've got a few more good years left."

"Mom's going to love that," she giggled, linking her arm through his as they strolled through the ballroom. She touched his arm suddenly, gesturing across the dance floor. "What were you thinking about?"

He paused, turning to her with a softness in his eyes that already gave her the answer she sought. "I was thinking about the past."

"The past?"

He nodded. "Twenty year old memories come back to you like it was yesterday. Living them was an eternity, but remembering them takes only an instant." He looked into her face, the face that so resembled the woman who bore her. "I look at you and I see your mother the day I met her."

"Mom always said the heavens smiled on her that day."

"For me too," he said softly.

Maggie grinned, hugging him tightly as she said, "And you say Mom's sentimental." She pulled back and kissed his cheek. "Speaking of Mom, she sent me to find you. It's time for the picture."

He nodded and wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they walked back through the ballroom. Ropes of twinkling white lights hung from the ceiling, a celestial canopy that cast a soft glow.

"There's Daddy and Maggie," Stella cried, pointing them out of the crowd.

Olivia turned around, smiling in relief at the sight of the missing. "Finally," she sighed, winking at Maggie as she continued, "He was in the parlor with a cigar, wasn't he?"

Maggie shrugged, taking her nine-year-old sister's hand as she backed away from the conversation. Olivia rolled her eyes and turned back to Gregory accusingly. "She covers for you."

"As any good daughter would for her father."

She laughed. "And I thought two daughters would even things out."

A deep chuckle interrupted them as Christopher stepped in between them, casually draping his arms around each of them. "When are you both going to realize that there is no 'even' with those girls?" He sighed, as only a confident nineteen year old on the cusp of adulthood could. "My little sisters have taken over control of this family."

He stood tall, straightening the lapel of his tuxedo as he shook his head regretfully. "And I think we all need to take a moment and reflect on the reality that I would have made a wonderful only child."

Olivia's eyebrow arched as he walked over to the girls, swinging Stella into his arms with a flourish. "He says that like he doesn't love them to pieces," she whispered in Gregory's ear.

Gregory smiled, his arm nestled around Olivia's waist. Her arm went across his chest, her fingers lightly caressing the spot where she knew his scar to be. As if she was still worried he was in pain. He pulled her hand away and brought it to his mouth, a soft kiss baptizing the tips of her fingers.

"Look, darling," she whispered.

He followed her gaze, watching as the photographer arranged the children around Maxwell and Eleanor. A grinning Stella stood between her grandparents, Christopher and Maggie behind them. "Look at them," she continued, unabashed pride creeping into her voice. "Look at what we did."

He squeezed her shoulder, his gaze lingering on each of them. "Our children."

She turned to him, her hands sliding down his side. "We didn't do so bad."

"No," he agreed, "we didn't. In fact, all things considered, we did pretty damn good."

Olivia smiled. "Let's get this picture done with. After all, it's not every day your parents celebrate sixty years of marriage. And then after, you're _mine_ on the dance floor."

He pulled her closer, drawing her in as he growled in her ear, "And tonight- you're mine."

She shivered in his arms, a wicked grin snaking across her face. "Promise?"

Gregory watched as she turned away, beckoning him to follow as she joined the photo. He paused for a moment, watching the woman that captured his heart and the children she gave him. He had been blessed four times over, precious gifts that most people spent a lifetime waiting to find.

The heavens truly had smiled on them, he thought as Stella skipped over to him. "Come on, Daddy!" she exclaimed, tugging on his arm. "We can't take the picture without you!"

He smiled, letting her take his hand and lead him over. Yes, he was blessed, he thought as he stood behind his parents with Olivia and their children gathered around him.

Delightfully so.

THE END.


End file.
